


Hermione Mendonica and the Heir of Slytherin + 2nd Summer

by HornedSerpentNine



Series: Veela's Omen Chronicles [3]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alfā/Gamma/Delta + Epsilon Dynamics, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-04 04:34:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HornedSerpentNine/pseuds/HornedSerpentNine
Summary: Year Two of Hogwarts; once more a threat is lurking, but this time it's inside the castle!





	1. Start With A Bang

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any Harry Potter, nor do I own any lore I found in the Wiki pages/Pottermore.  
My wonderful Beta is Rencae!  
Also, I use Google Translate,  
Also-Also, I attempt to upload on/around Saturday (Eastern Coast time)  
Also-3x, all comments and suggestions are welcome! (I always reply back!)  
Also-4x, I have a VOC Companion series (https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580833)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione makes a new friend and she has Quidditch practice

By the time the duo arrive at the main doors, Hermione already likes Luna’s quirkiness. She’s also much more observant than she first appears, and Hermione thinks Luna sees the world differently than most Gamma’s. She’s the first to inquire about her Madisntic’s Necklace that Hermione always wears.

“It’s battered and rough around the edges, but that’s what makes it so pretty. I wonder why beauty has to be refined and controlled,” Luna had said. The Gamma is going to be a First year, like Astoria and Ginny. She didn’t ride in the boats because she saw invisible magical creatures that led her to the carriages.

“How can you see something invisible?” Hermione questions, and Luna hums against her chest.

“Magic? I suppose the better question would be how can one see air?” The Gamma replies dreamily.

“Well, when other materials interact with it,” Hermione replies, and a bright smile is her reward. The rest of the side continues in silence until they reach Hogwarts’ front doors. Hermione stands gracefully, holding Luna against her as she hops out of the carriage.

Luna waves to the Thestrals as they walk into the castle. Putting the Gamma down, Hermione realizes the little witch is as tall as her elbow. Yet that doesn’t keep her from slowing Hermione down, in fact she’s matching Hermione’s longer stride by her skipping. Hermione sees Luna off in the side chamber to wait for the other First years, waving goodbye to the girl.

Walking the corridors to the Great Hall, Hermione’s good mood settles, and she enters the Great Hall, sticking to the back. Sliding into her seat between Daphne and Beta Tracey, Hermione settles on a neutral look.

“What took you so long?” Draco asks a little ways down the table, his group sitting closer to hers. Hermione shrugs, looking up at the High Table. Mainly to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

“I found a First year who hitched a ride on the carriages.” Pansy whistles softly.

“That’s gusty—they’re probably going to be a Gryffindor,” Omega Tracey muses, but Hermione shakes her head.

“No, she won’t.” She says, thinking about Luna. Daphne shrugs.

“Well she missed seeing the Black Lake at night,” The Beta says, and there are murmurs of agreement.

“Her loss,” Millicent snorts.

“On a different topic, where’s your two Gryffindors?” Pansy nods over to the red and gold table. Hermione looks up, scanning the students. Harry and Ron aren’t there, but fortunately Neville is. They lock gazes, and he smiles a bit, waving. She nods at him, her eyes flicking over to the Hufflepuff table. Harold’s talking with two other boys in their year; Omega Conner Moon and Beta Justin Finch-Fletchley.

He must of felt her eyes, because he looks up, giving her a thumbs up. Glancing over to the Gryffindor table, she remembers Arthur’s flying car. Sighing, Hermione knows where they are, or rather where they will be. How could they have decided flying a car to Hogwarts was a good idea, she’ll never know. At least they were smart enough to follow the train tracks.

“They’ll arrive, eventually.” Hermione responds noncommittally. Pansy nods, accepting the Slytherin answer. Waiting for the First years to arrive is boring, mixed with a growing anticipation that builds from the rest of the school. Finally, the doors open, and she watches the First years enter.

She easily spots Ginny, Luna, and Astoria with their distinctive hair colors. She also spots the familiar face of Peter Silverthorn. Her mind tunes out the rest of the new kids, as she waits for the four names.

“Greengrass, Astoria!” There's a beat.

“SLYTHERIN!” The young Alpha leaps off the stool, a jubilated grin on her lips as she bounces over to Hermione and Daphne. Without skipping a beat, the Alpha wedges herself between them and settles on Hermione’s lap. Her year mates—excluding Daphne who has an exasperated look on her face—are shocked by the blatant display of familiarity.

“Lovegood, Luna!” Hermione looks up at the Gamma, seeing the Hat muttering to itself.

“She’s not going to be Sorted anytime soon,” Draco mutters. No sooner than he says this, the Hat perks up and cries out.

“RAVENCLAW!” Luna walks towards her table. Sitting down with the other Claws, the Gamma shines a dreamily smile at Hermione. She lifts her chin up slightly, and Luna tilts her head down in response, bowing to Hermione as her Alpha. A curious thought strikes Hermione, and she wonders if Luna could be the one.

The Gamma tilts her head, muttering under her breath, and Hermione feels a delicate brush of Luna’s magic against hers. She reaches out with her magic, entwining the offered, submissive olive branch, and the two meld together, the magic merging as it ebbs and flows between them.

Luna smiles dreamily, her head tilting to the other side, happy that Hermione accepted the Bounded-Vassal connection. Hermione turns her gaze back to the Sorting, the new link dissipating from their sight, but laying underneath their skins.

“Silverthorn, Peter!” The Hat barely touches his head and it cries out.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” The Alpha is grinning madly, as he races towards the yellow and black table.

“Weasley, Ginerva!” Ginny walks up nervously, and the Hat is placed on her head.

“GRYFFINDOR!” The Hat’s lifted, and Ginny’s grinning, joining her brothers. Right at that moment, Harry and Ron enter the Opening Feast, scratched up, but otherwise fine.

* * *

The very nex day, the story of Harry and Ron crashing into the Whomping Willow spreads. Err’sh comes flying in a hurry for the morning mail. Not even landing, he drops the letter, and flies away. Picking it up the red letter, immediately everyone at the table is interested in it. Hermione, frowning at their sudden intrigue, opens it, and it explodes with a _BANG_.

“**_HERMIONE ETO MENDONICA!—_**” Hermione flinches as she hears Juin’s voice a hundred times louder than normal screaming her name from the letter, it forming a fanged mouth. Everyone turns to look at her.

“**_—POURQUOI SUIS-JE OBTENIR DES INVITATIONS DE PORNO ENFANT DE TROIS DAMES À ROZNICA—POUR PERFORMER À UN NIGHTCLUB EN PUTAIN DE _CHINE?!_ PLUS IMPORTANT—POURQUOI VOTRE SIGNATURE EST-IL SIGNÉ SUR CES PUTAIN DE PAPIERS?!—_** [_—WHY AM I GETTING ROZANICA THRICE-DAMNED PORN INVITATIONS—TO PERFORM AT A NIGHTCLUB INFUCKING_ CHINA?! _MORE IMPORTANTLY—WHY IS YOUR SIGNATURE SIGNED ON THOSE FUCKING PAPERS?!—_]”

Juin’s furious voice yells in French.

"**_—__VOUS ÊTES SI CHANCEUX QUE JE NE PEUX PAS VOLER DROIT AUDESSUS ET RIP VOTRE LANGUE D’ARGENT DÉVIEUSE DE BOUCHE SALE ET DRAINEZ CHAQUE GOUTTE DE SANG DE VOUS PART VOUS PUIS TU TU EN UN SEAU DE GODET PENDANT QUE JE DÉCHIQUETTE TA PEAU EN MORECEAUX—_** [_—YOU ARE SO LUCKY THAT I CAN’T FLY STRAIGHT OVER AND RIP YOUR DEVIOUS SILVER-TONGUE FROM YOUR FILTHY MOUTH AND DRAIN EVERY DROP OF BLOOD FROM YOU THEN DROWN YOU IN A BUCKET OF ITWHILE I SHRED YOUR SKIN TO PIECES!—_]”

Hermione’s eyes widen at Juin’s aggressive savagery. She wonders if the Veela woman has ever cussed out other children she was pissed at before Elise came along.

“**_—ATTENDS PETIT VAUTOUR—QUAND CETTE ÉCOLE SE TERMINE—VOUS—ÉTRE—FONDU—MORT!_** [—JUST WAIT YOU LITTLE VULTURE—WHEN THAT SCHOOL ENDS—YOU—ARE—FUCKING—DEAD!]”

The letter takes a shuddering breath, then hisses at Hermione before shredding itself up. A smaller letter falls from inside it, opening as it falls. It’s from Annie and Claire.

** _Hermione,_ **

** **

** _Hope this gets to before Mother’s finds out. We went to a nightclub, and needed an adult’s signature, so we used yours. Yes, we know you’re not an adult. We’ll try and cancel the prescriptions that the club always sends out to volunteers, until then, thanks!_ **

** **

** _Love,_ **

** _Annie_ **

** _(Her seal, a ribbon twirling)_ **

** _Claire_ **

** _(Her seal, a pond with a three reeds)_ **

Hermione can’t help but snicker, knowing that Elise will calm Juin down, and Eto will make sure she doesn’t do anything rash. Her snickers grow into laughter, as the Great Hall stares in shock. Juin let out something that Hermione can use, she can’t enter England. Another explosion rocks the Great Hall, and everyone turns to see another Howler, this one from Molly to Ron.

* * *

Hermione saunters into her first class, a pep in her step from the Howler. Daphne just shakes her head at her.

“I think you’re the only witch here that laughs at a _Howler_—”

“But did you actually _do_ that?” Pansy interrupts, she one of the four other Slytherins that understood French. Hermione snorts, a smirk on her face.

“No, my nieces did,” Flora trips over Hestia’s shoes in shock.

“_Nieces?_” She gasps. Millicent eyes her suspiciously.

“How old _are_ you?”

Daphne elbows her.

“You know it’s not polite to ask that,” The Beta hisses.

“Let’s just say that my much older sisters weren’t expecting me,” Hermione says with mirth, enjoying her own inside joke. They enter Greenhouse Three with the Hufflepuffs, Professor Sprout showing them Mandrakes. Hermione pays attention, until she sees Professor Lockhart walking with Harry outside. The Alpha’s just interested in making himself more famous by using Harry.

She honestly doesn’t know why he thinks he can do it; James Potter is only famous because he’s a Pureblood who survived a Death Eater attack. And she knows that Professor Lockhart got a warning from the Potter Alpha himself. Looking around, she finds Harold.

Smiling at him, she crosses the invisible House line, the two Hufflepuffs next to him shying away from her.

“Hey Lurch, how was your summer?” Harold asks, and she chuckles.

“Not bad, I met some interesting people, how about you Bluejay?” That prompts him to regal his miserable summer adventures with his cousins. In Transfiguration, she traps her beetle between her hands, and when she lifts her hand away there’s a nice button. Daphne merely rolls her eyes when Hermione pins the button onto her uniform.

Then comes Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Sitting on the Slytherin side, Beta Tracey as her seat partner, she scowls at the desk. Beta Tracey on the other hand, has all of Professor Lockhart’s books out, sighing as she strokes them. She knocks the Beta’s hand off the books, annoyed at the sound.

“Hey! What was that for?” Hermione doesn’t answer, but continues to glare at her desk. Beta Tracey humphs, but doesn’t do it again. Blaise and Theodore sitting at the desk next to them, lean over to her.

“Hey, is it true; you actually don’t like Lockhart?” Blaise asks, and the Slytherins around her quiet a bit to hear her answer.

“I don’t fancy anyone who look like a styled rat.” Hermione drawls. The girls around her look scandalized, while the boys snicker. As if on que from some higher being controlling their strings of life—the so called Professor Lockhart strolls in, pushing a terrified Harold in front of him.

Flashing the class a horse smile, Hermione stares at Harold, silently trying to make the Beta look up.

“What? Why is he here?” Ron asks loudly. The Alpha just smiles brightly.

“Why, I was helping this Gryffindor to my class! Say, if you want a photograph, you can go ask that new Gryffindor with the camera!” There are confused glances thrown Harold’s way. Hermione’s eyes are slits, and she stands up. The whole class turns to her.

“He is a Hufflepuff.” She says coldly, and Harold looks up at her. Professor Lockhart flounders, looking down at the Beta confused.

“Why, of course! You should of said something my boy!” He taps Harold’s shoulder, and Hermione’s striding forwards before she realizes it.

“House colors are simple enough to memorize, learn them. _Sir_.” She adds the honorific as an afterthought. Pulling Harold to her, she guides him out of the class. Once out, Harold lets out a shaky breath.

“Thanks Lurch, he—he used his pheromones—I couldn’t go,” Harold quickly whips his eyes, turning from her. Rage roars in her at the admission, but she stomps it down, not wanting to frighten the Beta even more.

“Harold, look at me,” He does, and she puts a comforting hand on his arm.

“Go to Professor Sprout, tell her about it, he’s not allowed to do that to students,” She says in a calm but firm tone. Harold nods.

“If he forces you again, tell me or Professor Sprout right away,” Hermione orders, and Harold nods again.

“Now go,” She gives him a gentle push, and he starts walking forwards, but then looks back at her.

“You’re the best Alpha I’ve ever met,” And then he’s gone.

* * *

Walking back, Hermione opens the door to pandemonium. Student are running around, screaming, and Pixies are flying around chaotically. She sees Professor Lockhart shout a stupid charm; _Peskipiksi Pesternomi_; and then a Pixie throws his wand out of the window. Hermione looks up to see Neville deposited on the chandelier by two Pixies by his ears.

Sneering Hermione enters, slamming the door with a bang.

“_Silencio!_” She shouts, all sound cutting off. Everyone including the Pixies turn towards her. It’s just what she needs. Her her hand jerks up.

“_Immobulus!_” A blast of magic hits all the Pixies, freezing them all. Then they all fall, making clunking sounds. With another wave of her hand, Neville’s lowered to the ground. Snapping her head at Professor Lockhart, she scowls, glaring.

“_Clean this up._” She orders in her Alfā voice, the pathetic Alpha nodding quickly. Turning to the rest of the class, she unsilences the class.

“Dismissed.” She orders, and whirls out of the class, her cloak’s billowing a bit like a mini Snape.

* * *

When not antagonized by Professor Lockhart’s stupidity, Hermione finds her time outside of class is just as full as the classes themselves. Luna always appears when she’s alone, draping herself on Hermione no matter where they are. She, Harold, and Neville meet up in the Library, discussing their classes or other study matter. They’re occasionally joined by Daphne and Beta Tracey, but mostly left to themselves.

During the halls, she usually talks with Harry and Ron. They angrily informed her that the border had closed on them, and Ron swore he saw a cloaked figure watching them. Other than Professor Lockhart stalking Harry for more fame, a First year Beta Gryffindor has taken to appearing around corners to take photos of him.

Draco came up the nickname; Click-Clack for Colin Creevey. Or in Pansy’s case; Creepy Creevey. Even in the Muggle world there’s such as thing as “not consenting to have pictures taken of someone.” Hermione also has a few shadows of her own. Astoria is always demanding that Hermione accompany her on a tour of Hogwarts, Ginny always looks like she’s internally arguing with her whether or not she wants to approach, and Peter just watches from a distance.

Then, when she retires for the night, her year mates have her all to themselves. Astoria especially enjoys that time to sit in Hermione’s lap, play with her hair, and prank other Snakes. Her lack of social cues and Hermione’s nonchalance attitude towards it makes the young Alpha somewhat untouchable.

Beta Tracey is astonished that Hermione even tolerates such behavior amongst the Slytherins.

“As far as I’m concerned Astoria’s not damaging our reputation.” She drawls, thinking of the endlessly energized young Alpha.

“You’re joking—you’re not joking—Hermione, the brat is—!” The Beta suddenly shrieks when a spider drops on her head, and Hermione turns to see Astoria hiding behind a mortified Draco. Hermione reaches over to the screaming Beta Tracey, smacking the arachnid off. It turns into mouse by the time it hits the floor.

Tilting her head at Astoria, an eyebrow raised, she only receives an innocent expression. After a beat, the young Alpha ducks her head.

* * *

September nineteenth finally comes around, and Hermione turns thirteen. When she wakes up, all her dormmates are awake before she is, Err’sh as well. She looks pointed at him, and he rolls his wings in a shrug.

“Happy birthday Hermione!” They cheer. The whole Slytherin House seems to know her birthday, and Hermione wonders how any of them found out. Even students from the other Houses say happy birthday, although most follow it up with, “How old are you now?”, to which she doesn’t answer. She rather likes how everyone thinks she’s older.

* * *

The first week passes, and Hermione’s resting with her post-first-week-angst going away. Not even a few hours later, loud whispering wakes her.

“What do you—oh it’s you. What do you want?” Pansy hisses at someone outside their dorm. Hermione hears the strong response from a First year.

“Flint wants Hermione for Quidditch.” Astoria whispers, a little wary of Pansy.

“Like hell, now scat.” Hermione hears a stamp.

“No! Flint needs Hermione—”

“Like hell, she’s a Reserve Seeker!” Pansy cuts in.

“Well, he needs her down at the pitch for practice! Now!” Astoria whispers louder, annoyance tinging her words.

“Shut up and bugger off! Just because she tolerates you doesn’t mean you can pull shit like this!” Pansy growls, pissed off, as she shuts the door on the First year’s face. Hermione groans into her pillow. Damn Marcus. Pansy approaches Hermione’s bed, shuddering.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?!” Millicent gasps, probably haven woken up as well. Hermione sits up, holding a hand up to Pansy.

“The whole dorm heard all of it, you weren’t quiet.”

* * *

Hermione is the first Slytherin to get her things together, walking down to the pitch with yawning boys behind her. She leaves Err’sh in the stands. Today is Draco, Vincent, and Gregory’s first practice. The Beta’s playing as Beaters. After the boys admire their new brooms, specially painted in Slytherin colors, they zip around the pitch.

Flying high with a simple touch, she waits with Marcus. The Alpha gets the others on drills, and motions Draco and her to fly closer to him.

“You two are going to be training together, got it?” They nod.

“This way if something happens to you Draco, Hermione can fill in, now go teach him some moves,” He orders, and Hermione ignores the twitch in her eye at his order. But she obeys. They fly off to the side, Hermione trying to get Draco to trust his grip on his broom by having him barrel roll. The sky is still dark, not even dawn, which adds to Draco’s nervousness.

Suddenly Hermione spots another team clad in scarlet robes walking onto the pitch.

“Oi Marcus!” Draco calls, pointing. The Alpha Captain snarls, signaling for the team to land. They do, right in front of the Gryffindors.

“Off the pitch, Wood,” Marcus sneers, and Oliver draws himself up. Hermione sighs, tuning out the impending shouting match. Instead she traces the wood grains of her broom. Then Marcus reveals Draco as the new Seeker, and he and Harry have a glare off. Oliver growls, as Marcus pulls out Professor Snape’s approval slip. There’s nothing Oliver can do about that.

Hermione tilts her head, turning to the odd sound in the stands. It’s Colin with his camera. Draco sneers in him, then turns the Weasley twins.

“It’s no wonder you’re so dirt poor. You probably _want_ Click-Clack to boast what’s left of your house, catering to filthy Mudbloods just like your oaf of a father.” Draco drawls. There’s a startled gasp from the Gryffindors. Hermione instantly dons a neutral face, and the twins roar.

Harry’s face is furious, and he lunges forwards, punching Draco in the face. Harry suddenly seizes, falling to the ground and holding his stomach. Draco stumbles away, holding his bloody nose.

≠ “_How dare you!_” ≠ Alicia screams.

“What did you do to Harry?!” Oliver yells, tackling Marcus. The Weasley twins surge forwards, roaring in rage towards Draco. Hermione grabs Draco’s robes collar, dragging him away as Vincent and Gregory block the twin’s path. Snarling at Draco, he cowers away from her. She’s just had _enough_ with his supremest views.

— . —

_Peskipiksi Pesternomi_ = “Pixie Detox” Charm

_Silencio!_ = Silencing Charm

_Immobulus!_ = Freezing Charm


	2. A Change In Beliefs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's starting her Court for King of Slytherin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to give a shout out to (https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rencae/pseuds/Rencae) for inspiring the alteration for Draco's punishment, which before he was only getting a tap on the wrist. Thanks for the comments, which are always appreciated!

The clicking sounds rapidly increases, and Hermione whips her head towards Colin in the stands. Jerking Draco to her, he keens, unable to meet her eyes. She might be emitting too much Alpha pheromones, but currently she doesn’t care.

“We’ll talk about this inside.” She growls, dropping him. By now everyone has stopped fighting, their eyes cast down. The Slytherins are practically bowing to her while the Gryffindors look away. Thrusting out her hand to Colin, she curls her fingers. They hear the startled squeak as the little Beta comes flying at them, his descent jerking to a halt right in front of Hermione.

She keeps him at eye level, and he whimpers, tears in his eyes. Ripping the camera out of his hands, she bares her at him.

“Hey, that’s mine,” He says weakly. Hermione growls, he rising up to meet her eyes, and Colin whimpers again. Dropping the camera, she smashes it under her heel.

“Do you have _any_ idea what consent is?” She snaps, and Colin shakes his head.

“Well here’s a little lesson ignorant Gryffindor; it means that if someone is uncomfortable with their picture taken without their _explicit_ permission, then _don’t_.” She says coldly, and Colin opens his mouth, again, ignoring the warning in her pheromones. She releases another wave, and he sags in the air. The teams likewise buckle slightly.

“Are you aware how your presence makes everyone wary of you? _Are you?_” Colin shakes his head, tears rolling down his face.

“It’s because they’re _afraid_ of you. Of your uncaring, constant, _need_ to capture every little aspect of their lives. Such a little thing, but so intimate. All just to fulfill you own _desires,_” She leans over him, and again the Beta shakes his head.

“A narcissistic creature that, out in the real world, would be thrown in Azkaban if you so much as took an unwanted photo of a someone powerful. And those powerful out there? They most certainly have connections in _here_.” She whispers, lowering her hand. Colin drops to the ground, unable to stand when her pheromones smother him.

Hermione stares down at him as the waterworks break.

“I-I didn’t think i-it—”

“Learn to think, and learn fast, because you’ve pissed off the powerful.” She says coldly, and reigns in her pheromones. At once everyone lets out a sigh of relief. Err’sh circles over her head, watching interestingly. Staring at Oliver, she jerks her head off the pitch. The Gryffindors don’t need to be told twice, and they scurry off, taking Colin with them.

Huffing, Hermione summons her broom and stalks back to Hogwarts.

* * *

Hermione’s nails drum on the table during lunch. There’s a tense silence at the whole table that hardly goes unnoticed by the rest of the school. Nervous glances are cast at Draco, and the subtle ring of space around him. Daphne leans into her slowly.

“Are you going to discipline Malfoy tonight?” The Beta whispers, careful to not disturb the quiet. Astoria giggles gleefully softly from Hermione’s lap, giving her sister a smirk.

“I want to watch,” The young Alpha smiles widely, her eyes glinting. Daphne shushes her.

“Tomorrow. I have prior engagements,” She mutters, and Daphne nods. A sudden commotion at the High Table draws her attention. Professor Lockhart’s ridiculous hat with large feather plumes blows off, revealing a gleaming, clean shaven bald head. Astoria bursts into laughter, and she sheathes her wand in her robes.

Hermione smiles down at the young Alpha, as Professor Lockhart scrambles to find his hat, his cheeks red as most of the hall laughs at the sight.

* * *

“You can write the addresses, oh, love this girl, she’s a big fan of mine you see,” Professor Lockhart says. Hermione gets to work, copying the addresses. She ignores his prattle. He’s thinks he has power, but he’s merely a rat compared to the true powers that be. Maybe she should rename him. The candles get lower and lower, while all throughout, the weak Alpha prattles on.

By the end, she’s so exasperated, she almost doesn’t hear the snake.

‡_. . . New ssscentsss . . . I sssmell them . . . Tasssty morssselsss . . . I hunger . . . Let me kill them . . ._‡ It whispers. She jerks straight in her chair, alert.

“I’m telling you, it was so shocking!” The Rat exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. Hermione looks around, listening for the snake. He checks his clock, exclaiming about the time. Ushering her out, Hermione stands in the deserted halls, listening. That snake, it must be in the walls. Leaning against the warm stone, she tunes into Hogwarts’ beating pulse.

But it doesn’t betray the bloodthirsty snake. Quickly jogging through the corridors to the Slytherin Common Room, she listens for any sound of that voice.

* * *

The next day Hermione keeps a sharp ear in case she hears a hint of the snake in the walls. Skipping dinner, she roams the corridors, straining her ears. She passes Peeves, the Poltergeist flying away from her, and hears Argus’ snarl as he chases the dead menace. Scowling at her inefficiency, Hermione calls it a day and returns to the Common Room.

On her way, she crosses paths with the Gryffindor’s House Ghost, Nearly Headless Nick.

“Oh, Miss Mendonica! I was wondering if I could ask you a favor since Harry vouches for you,” The Ghost begins. “

“If you could—this Hallow’s Eve ≠ is my five hundredth deathday,” The Ghost trails off, and then gives a brief rundown on his plans for his deathday.

“I was hoping, that you could come?” The Ghost asks. Why not?

“Sure,” She replies, and he smiles happily.

“Brilliant, you can bring a plus one if you wish,” He merely chatters as he floats away. Shaking her head, Hermione eventually enters the Slytherin Common Room. When she does, she realizes that most of the House is waiting, Draco standing in the middle of the floor. Err’sh is even there, perched on the back of her favorite seat.

Silence descends in the snake pit, and she stalks forwards. Residual anger stirs in her from before.

“Alpha Draco Lucius Malfoy,” she states clearly, and the Alpha straightens his spine, but keeps his eyes lowered.

“You know why you are here, yes?” She hisses, starting to circle him.

“Yes, Alpha,” He says, trying not to allow his fear scent grow. Hermione honestly doesn’t know what to do with him, but she’s to be King of Slytherin, she’ll have to implement her own laws. What would Eto do? Pausing behind him, she pushes down on his shoulders firmly. Draco kneels. Walking in front of him, she clasps her hands in front of her.

Yes, she knows what Eto would do. Unsheathing her wand, she flips it around, the metal hook gleaming in the dim light. Letting out a breath, Hermione’s Thrall unspools from inside her, flowing to Draco. He gasps when it swallows him, and keens shrilly when her Thrall starts to prick as his skin. She watches carefully as her Thrall’s shimmer makes it look like his flesh is boiling.

“Tell me, Malfoy,” She aims her wand at his hands.

“What makes _you_ superior to a so called Mudblood? Who are you, born from incestuous blood, to call a miracle of magic reborn?” It rises to his eyes.

“What are _you_, to ignorant Muggleborns seeking a place with their own?” She murmurs, and coaxes her Thrall. Draco’s mouth is wrenched open, his tongue pulled out.

“Are you then, power? Because you hold knowledge of a culture foreign to them? Because you will not lower yourself to help preserve the ways of _our_ kind?” Lowering her wand’s hook at his tongue, she locks gazes with him.

“I would say I do not relish in punishment, but that is a lie.” She presses the hook against Draco’s tongue, and he starts to wheezingly scream. She presses on, until the hook has cruelly ripped the tip of his tongue apart. Holding the bloody hook up for inspection, she stares at the blood.

Draco curls on his side, blood pooling out of his mouth as his pained sounds break the stillness. She stares down at him, his red blood dripping off her wand.

“Perhaps it is not truly your fault,” She murmurs. Draco watches as his blood puddle in front of him.

“‘_We are all born ignorant, but one must work hard to remain stupid_.’” Hermione quotes, tilting the tip of her wand at Draco’s bleeding mouth.

“A Muggle said that. A Muggle many of you would call inferior with their lack of magic, but frankly, I call bullshit.” Now Hermione’s eyes sweep around her, holding everyone captive in the burning brilliance of them.

“You hold ourselves to frivolous ideals such as _Toujours Pur. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_. Discard those thoughts, for they shall lead you astray into an oblivion that no magic may recover from.” Hermione looks at Draco, cross-pupil eyes glowing purple. With the same hook that cut him, she gathers her Thrall and heals the split, leaving it as a reminder.

Looking up again, Hermione addresses the Slytherins.

“There is a balance to this world, and the scales are rising against us. As King-in-waiting, my will shall soon be _law_,” Hermione spreads her hands, her Thrall flowing out, brushing up against her Housemates’ magics. Many gasp and shy away from the invasive touch. Only her pack do not. Draco sluggishly moves into a kowtow before her.

“Obey my _Veritas Sine Timore_; my _Truth Without Fear_; and I shall welcome you into my Court with open arms,” Hermione declares with a dark smile.

* * *

“This is interesting isn’t it?” Luna says dreamily, wearing her odd Spectrespecs with her mismatched uniform of bright vibrant colors, and her wand tucked behind her left ear. Hermione hums, as they make their way down to the dungeons at seven o’clock, following the candles. Luna was easy to convince, for she was already prepared to go.

Hermione wishes for that her Hallow’s Eve experiences won’t become a pattern. She _does_ want to taste of the Hallow’s Eve feast before she graduates Seventh year. A warm hand takes hers, Hermione glances at Luna.

“It’ll be alright my Liege-Lady, it’s a deathday.” She says cheerily, skipping as they walk down to the dungeons. As they enter, Nearly Headless Nick bows them in. Immediately Hermione passes through a Ghost, and she holds in her violent shiver. Seeing the Bloody Baron, she makes a beeline towards him, breathing in the space the other Ghosts avoid around him.

They spot Harry, Ron, and Neville, huddling next to the deathday Ghost. Luna waves them over, the boys practically running into the safe open space around the Bloody Baron. He chuckles, staring down at them.

“Don’t go to the food—it’s all rotten!” Ron cries, and Hermione looks over at the black covered table.

“It probably needs to be really foul for a Ghost to taste it.” Luna comments dreamily. The boys turn to her.

“Hey, you’re that new Claw Ginny’s talked about,” Ron says, and Luna smiles. Harry narrows his eyes at Luna, as if puzzled. Neville blushes, and waves at Luna.

“Oh look, it’s deathly quiet.” Luna says, and it is. Then a herd of headless horsemen come riding in, crashing the deathday party. The Bloody Baron scowls, leaving through a wall. They watch as Nick’s rival takes the stage, starting a game of Head Hockey.

“I’m going to barf,” Neville moans. Ron doesn’t look that far behind him.

“Time to go then.” Hermione orders, they all slipping towards the door, smiling and waving to any Ghost looking at them. In the passage, Ron dry heaves, Harry rubbing his back. Luna, however, is staring at Hermione, those silver eyes seeing right into her. Neville shivers, taking deep breaths.

“Well, if we hurry, we can . . .” Hermione cocks her head as she hears the breathing of the voice again.

‡_. . . Flesssh . . . Meat . . . Blood . . ._‡ Hermione tunes out the others, pressing her ear to the stone wall. She hears the slick and crinkling sounds of something. There must be passages there big enough for a snake . . . But something tells her this is a _very_, big snake.

‡_. . . Ssso dark . . . Freedom . . . Meat . . ._‡

“Hermione, what is that?!” Harry’s voice is shrill, her head whipping around. Harry’s looking widely around, his eyes wide. The voice sounds faint, like its moving away.

“Hermione—” Harry starts.

‡_. . . Light . . . Heart beatsss . . . FRESSSH BLOOD!_‡ Hermione and Harry jump at the roar at the end.

“It’s attacking someone!” Harry yells, taking off after the voice. Cursing, Hermione races after him, shouting for the others. She easily catches up to Harry with her longer legs, serving around a startled Harold.

“Woah! Lurch! Wait! What’s going on?!” He yells, joining their chase. Overtaking Harry, she swerves around a corner, jerking to a halt when she sees the wall. Harry slams into, and she stumbles forwards. Luna and Harold appear next, only slightly out of breath. Bringing up the rear, Neville and Ron arrive behind them, breathing hard.

“What in Merlin’s name is happening?!” Neville gasps, bending over with his hands on his knees.

“B-b-blood!” Ron points, his voice filled with fear. Reflected off the water pooling on the floor, are blood drawn words.

* * *

“_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, enemies of the heir, beware._” Luna whispers, her dreamy tone making it even more ominous.

“Blood hell!” Ron whimpers.

“I-I-I could hear it too.” Hermione glances at Harry, who's pale.

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS ‘_IT'?_” Ron cries, and Neville sinks to his knees. Harold is there, awkwardly petting the Omega’s shoulder.

“My Liege-Lady,” Luna says, pointing at the thing hanging from a torch.

“Mrs. Norris!” They gasp. The cat is still, her eyes wide. Hermione whirls around, gathering a shivering Neville in her arms.

“Neville, _match my breathing_, alright, in—out—yes, that’s it,” She soothes the Omega, making him focus on her Alfā voice. He obeys, and his breathes even out.

“We have to move, we don’t want to be found, and we all know everyone will blame—” Harry starts, but they hear the clattering of shoes, as everyone from the feast rounds the corner, seeing them. There’s shocked gasps, whispers filling the air. The crowd parts as Daphne makes her way to the front, her eyes widening when she sees Hermione.

“Enemies of the heir, beware?” The Beta looks questioningly at her, but she closes down her face into her calm blank mask. Argus shoves his way through, crying out when he sees Mrs. Norris.

“MRS. NORRIS! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! YOU KILLED MY CAT!” He spits, pointing at the other four, ignoring Hermione entirely. Then Dumbledore appears, and the Rat offers his office for the six students to speak to. He prances excitedly to his office, Hermione, the others, all the House Heads, Dumbledore, Argus and petrified Mrs. Norris, cram into his office.

While Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall inspect the cat, the Rat dances around them, proclaiming ideas of what could of killed the cat. Professor Snape stands in the shadows, and Hermione looks at him, shaking her head the slightest bit. He nods, and Hermione turns back to see Dumbledore look up.

“Argus, ≠ she is not dead, ≠ merely petrified.” Filch looks up, disbelief on his face.

“But, but, ≠ she’s all stiff and frozen!” ≠

“She is well, but as to how, I am unclear . . .”

“_THEY_ CAN TELL YOU!” Argus points at the other five.

“_THEY_ DID IT! THEY MURDERED MY CAT!” Filch screams, his finger quivering.

“We did not!” Harry retorts, Ron backing him up. Neville and Harold stare in fear, while Luna tilts her head at the Delta.

“You saw what was on the wall!” He spits.

“Argus! One of my Hufflepuffs couldn’t possibly do that!” Professor Sprout speaks up, standing next to Harold. Dumbledore nods. Hermione feels Professor Snape’s hand on her shoulder, silently supporting her. No one asks why Argus isn’t blaming Hermione.

“Indeed, no second year could have achieved magic so dark . . .” Dumbledore trails off, and Hermione sees his eyes flicker over to her. Professor Snape’s hand on her shoulder clenches a bit firmly.

“Headmaster, if you would, I would like to question the students.” Dumbledore gives Professor Snape the floor. Turning to the four of them, he zeros on Ron, a slight sneer coming to his lips.

“Why weren’t you six at the Halloween feast? Why be in a dark corridor at all?”

“I was! But I was full, and wanted to go to bed early!” Harold squeaks shrilly. Professor Sprout stands next to him, arms crossed as she stares at Professor Snape.

“My Liege-Lady, Lord Potter, Lord Weasley,Lord Longbottom and I were invited to Nearly Headless Nick’s deathday, it was very educational,” Luna says dreamily, Professor Snape stares at her, but ultimately ignores her.

“But then why didn’t you rejoin the feast right afterwards? What was so special about that corridor?” He presses, and Ron stutters.

“We . . .” Harry starts, unable to finish.

“We heard someone, Professor.” Hermine speaks up, he slowly turns to her, eyes calculating.

“You . . . Heard a someone, saying what exactly?” He sneers, his public persona fixed. She focuses on Professor Snape’s bridge of his nose when she replies.

“Fresh blood! They were talking about killing someone!” Harry blurts, and that even stops the Rat’s background rambling.

“The voice alluded to being caged in a way, and now it’s free and hungry.” Everyone looks at Hermione.

“Very well, but in the future, please contact a Professor if you hear suspicious uttering,” Dumbledore says gravely, and dismisses them.

* * *

Throughout the next days, all the talk is about the attack, Argus assigning detentions left and right, and the Chamber of Secrets. The other five are given wide berths in their own Houses, but in Slytherin, nothing much changes. Except that they think she’s the Heir of Slytherin. Honestly, it’s not a far stretch, the core Great Houses of the Sacred Twenty-Eight are descended from Salazar Slytherin.

All too soon, every Hogwarts student has a copy of _Hogwarts, a History,_ trying to find any mention of the Chamber. But Hermione knows there’s nothing. So she goes to the next best thing—Ghosts. A few days of tracking down the Bloody Baron, Astoria runs up to her at break, breathlessly informing her that their House Ghost is out by the lake.

“Afternoon, Bloody Baron.” Hermione calls out, walking down the stairs to the Boathouse. He turns to face her.

“Ah, what can I do for the Hogwarts’ Champion herself?” She ignores his odd comment.

“What do you know of the Chamber of Secrets?” His eyes seem to brighten.

“Well, young Snake, what you ask of me requires something from you.”

“What is that you want?” She asks.

“I wish to taste of life again, to feel the wind, to smell the trees, to eat fruit, I _hunger_ for this, you see,” He pauses. “But not enough to take over fully. I find I like lording my terror over the other Ghosts.” She gets it, power is addicting.

“Alright Baron, I let you feel the wind, smell the trees, eat your food for only today, and you tell me everything about the Chamber. Is the deal set?” Hermione says.

“The deal is set.” The Bloody Baron grins and rushes in her.

* * *

Hermione has the queerest feeling of floating, yet feeling a tug in her navel. She struggles to open her eyes, seeing the world, but dulled, as if the colors are muted, flat. She looks down, seeing . . . Herself, walking through the halls. They stop by a large portrait of fruit, the Baron raising her hand to tickle a single piece of grape, the portrait opening to reveal the Hogwarts kitchens.

Stepping through regally, the Baron orders a nectarine with her voice, one of the many Elves fetching it for him. He takes a bite, then devours it, ordering cheese and wine to be brought to him. Hermione watches, her emotions dulled, as the Baron in her body wolfs down the food.

Whipping her mouth, he looks up at Hermione, a menacing smile gracing her face. Leaving the Elves, they enter Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, the Ghost herself in the pipes. The Baron looks at the ring of the sinks, smirking, stroking a fosset.

— . —

_Toujours Pur_ = House Black Family Motto (French: Always Pure)

_Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_ = House Malfoy Family Motto (Latin: Purity Will Always Conquer)


	3. Scramble About The Chamber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione puts on her detector's cap

“I was one of the first generations of Purebloods to be Sorted into Slytherin’s noble House,” The Baron whispers in Hermione’s voice. “In the secret depths of the castle, unbeknownst to the other Houses, we studied the darkest of magicks.” An insane smile cracking on Hermione’s face.

“The Founders built the Chamber, but Slytherin took over when he realized it wasn’t used to its full potential. He obliterated all memories of the Chamber, except those of his House. We were warned never to wander, or we’d be lost forever, not even Slytherin himself would find us.

“He was my Master, and I his Apprentice, was privy to his secrets.” The Baron hisses softly. _What secrets?_ Hermione tries to ask.

“All sorts of delicious things that will make you head spin, young Snake. He intended for his Heir to inherit all his knowledge, but events of time saw him regretfully away from Hogwarts. His Heir undiscovered.” _Who?_ The Baron laughs.

“I think I shall enjoy that secret a little longer . . . But Master’s Slytherin Heir is foretold to unleash the horrors of the Chamber, purging the school of those unworthy to learn magic.” With that, the Baron expells himself from Hermione’s body, laughing.

* * *

“Are you dead?” A high voice asks above her. Hermione groans as she shifts.

“Oh, pity, you aren’t.” Moaning Myrtle whines. Hermione sits up, looking out the window, startling when she sees the sun setting.

“Yes how unfortunate,” Hermione grunts.

“Your friends were looking for you,” Moaning Myrtle titters after Hermione.

* * *

“You’re alive!” Hermione grunts as she’s tackled by the Greengrass sisters and Beta Tracey when she enters the empty Common Room. Wrapping them all in an awkward hug, she pulls back, wincing when Daphne smacks her shoulder hard.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?!” She hisses, her hands running through her hair. Hermione reclines in her chair, and they sit close.

“You don’t look well,” Beta Tracey comments. Astoria climbs onto her lap, and Daphne sits on the arm of her chair. Hermione absently fiddling with the young Alpha’s hair.

“Well?” Daphne snaps.

“The Chamber was an dark magic classroom and den for monsters that could purge those unworthy of magic.” Hermione says softly.

“Monsters?” Astoria whispers in awe.

“Unsurprising.” Daphne sighs.

“Great,” Beta Tracey groans.

* * *

“Hermione!” Three sets of arms fling themselves on her the next day during break between classes. Harold holds her tight, Neville’s face is bright red, but he doesn’t let go, and Luna just smiles

“You reek of regretful death.” Luna says dreamily, stroking Hermione’s face.

“Do I?” Hermione muses, directing them into an alcove to tell them in a hushed tones what the Bloody Baron said. She knows they won’t tell anyone.

“Bloody hell,” Harold’s eyes are dazed.

“That’s . . . More than what Binns told us,” Neville mutters.

“Snakes can be quite friendly towards those in their brood.” Luna says.

“Should, ah, should we go back to find more evidence?” Neville mutters nervously, stands, and Harold claps him on the back.

“Spoken like real detective,” Neville blushes.

“My Gran always said to be a real Auror I had to look for things others didn’t,” He looks down, embarrassed. Hermione smiles.

“You’d make a brilliant Auror,” She says.

* * *

“Mr. Filch isn’t there.” Luna says airily, peeking around the corner. They fan out, the words Argus tries so hard to erase still there. Luna finds scorch marks around them. Hermione discovers something by the window.

“Here,” She points, the others comeing over, watching in fascination as hordes of spiders climb up the wall, threads of silk flying, into a crack in the window to the outside. A little breeze blows on her face.

“Odd.” Hermione touches one, it jumping back.

“. . . telling you, we’ll find something!” Harry’s voice says down the hall. The boys tense as Harry and Ron appear, the latter squealing shrilly.

“Shh!” Harold hisses, as Harry slaps his hand over Ron’s mouth. Said Beta is pale, eyes glued on the trail of spiders. A few now use Hermione’s hand to get through the crack.

“You—have—spiders—on—you!” He pants, moving Harry’s hand away.

“We use them in Potions,” Neville says, confused.

“They’re ok dead—but their _movement_—no.” Ron whimpers fearfully. Harry shields Ron’s view, talking in hushed tones to his Beta.

“Hey, these are water marks,” Harold crouches, peering at the floor.

“Mr. Filch was mopping.” Luna points to a door with an out of order sign on it.

“It leads . . . To Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.” Ron says, recovering a bit from his scare, but he keeps Harry between himself and the spiders. Hermione opens the door, only Luna by her side.

“Something you want to say?” She looks over her shoulder. Harry and Ron shift while Neville rolls his eyes.

“At the deathday party, Ron made Myrtle cry.” Harry says.

“I did not! Peeves was just egging her on!” Ron argues.

“You did.” Neville says. Hermione rolls her eyes, gesturing for them to follow. Inside, Myrtle’s bathroom is exactly the same, the Ghost herself peeking over the top of her toilet stall.

“Oh hello Slytherin, Luna,” She says sadly. Her gaze skips over Harold to Harry, Ron, and Neville.

“Oh so its you three, come to mock me again?”

“No Myrtle, I wasn’t.” Ron says, looking to Harry as he mouths ‘don’t make her cry.’

“What are you saying, oh I see how it is, let’s all mock Moaning Myrtle!” She wails. They all wisely back up out of splashing range.

“I wasn’t mocking you, I just—” Ron starts, but then Myrtle howls something incomprehensible, flying backwards, slamming into her toilet. The sound of wails and moans echo in the pipes.

“That went well,” Luna says.

* * *

Hermione sits in her chair in the Common Room, twirling her wand over her fingers. She knows what everyone thinks, but Harry also heard the snake. She wasn’t aware he was a Parselmouth, but the Alpha’s confusion suggests he didn’t either. The monster of Slytherin is obviously a snake, but one that only petrifies.

Or perhaps could only get the chance to be petrified. Hermione tunes into Hogwarts’ magic, feeling it’s pulse. Silently, she asks for an answer, but the castle remains silent. Sighing, she keeps twirling her wand. The firelight glints off the metal hook, glinting like cat eyes.

* * *

Instead of listening to the Rat—with newly grown hair—make Harry act out one of his books, she watches Ron. The Beta sits ramrod straight, refusing to look anywhere but forwards. He—and by extension Harry—are planning something. Daphne frowns next to her.

“He’s about as obvious as a bull,” The Beta mutters, going back to watching Harry and the Rat. When the foolishness ends, Hermione lingers outside the door, listening to Harry and Ron stay behind.

“Er, Professor,” Harry asks nervously.

“Why yes my dear boy?”

“Could you sign this—”

“Why of course young Alpha! I always have time to sign autographs! Here!” She hears the Rat exclaim.

“Thank you Professor!” Harry says, and she presses herself against the wall.

“Yeah thanks!” Ron echoes as they race out of the classroom hasily.

* * *

The following day during one of Hermione’s study sessions with Harold, Luna, and Neville, she notices the Omega shift nervously.

“I find that speaking positive thoughts bores the Wrackspurts,” Luna says whimsically, Neville casting her a confused look. Hermione and Harold have learned to take Luna’s belief of magical creatures no one’s heard of in stride. She honestly likes hearing of them. Neville just finds it confusing.

“Er—what are those?” He asks.

“Oh they float into you ears and make your brain go all fuzzy and confused.” Luna says brightly.

“Ah, okay, er—okay.” Neville stammers. He turns to Hermione, not looking at her but facing his body towards her. He takes a deep breath.

“Ineedyourhelpingettingafewingrediantsthatweneedforapotion!” He rushes out in one breath shrilly. They hear a hissing sound from Madam Pince’s place behind her desk. Hermione tilts her head, and Harold stares at Neville trying to understand what he said.

“‘We’?” Hermione asks, and Neville stiffens.

“Er—Fred and George—they need it!” Neville gasps. Harold narrows his eyes.

“For what? Why? No offense Nev, they usually don’t involve others who might reveal their pranks,” Harold says, and Neville nods.

“Yeah, but, they said they needed my help this time,” He mumbles, and Luna looks up at Hermione.

“The Nargles think it’s a good idea, they’ll help you Hermione,” She says, her eyes tracking the invisible creatures around Hermione’s head. Creatures she claimed were mistletoe infesters, mischievous thieves, and loved Veela. Hermione looks back at Neville, and sighs.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” She says, and Neville rockets out of his chair, hugging her tightly. She pats him on the back slowly, wondering what the twins are up to.

* * *

“Why in Merlin’s name did you convince me to do this?!” Daphne grouches next to Hermione as they raid Professor Snape’s private potion stores.

“You love me, and are the best of best friends I could ask for,” Hermione teases back, handing Daphne a bottle. The Beta flinches, almost knocking it out of Hermione’s hand.

“Hey! What about me!” Beta Tracey whisper-hisses as she holds the warding open with her wand just as Hermione showed her. Beads of sweat on her forehead.

“I think I can smell Malfoy,” Astoria mutters from her place at the door. She insisted the Alpha to distract Professor Snape, and also a way to earn his way back into her still forming court. Hermione quickly tallies their haul; three measures full moon picked fluxweed, two bundles of knotgrass, four leeches, two scoops of lacewing flies, three measures boomslang skin, one measure bicorn horn.

She hops off the stool, for Professor Snape built his store much higher than she.

“Hurry, their scents are stronger!” Astoria whispers shrilly. Hermione shuts the store doors, and Beta Tracey drops the wards, letting them snap back into place. Daphne grabs half of their haul, and the quartet slip out undetected a good five minutes before Professor Snape and Draco round the corner.

* * *

Hermione completely forgot about the next Quidditch match. Sitting in the Staff Box, she readies her _Amplifying Charm_.

“Let the match between Gryffindor vs Slytherin begin!” Hermione says, her voice sounding out across the pitch. It’s a tense one; Slytherin’s team joining brute force with their superior brooms against Gryffindor’s brilliant skills on inferior brooms. But of course there’s Harry, who matches Draco evenly.

“There goes a Bludger after Harry—George hits towards Adrian—and the Bludger targets Harry?” Hermione pauses, watching the match. Marcus scores.

≠ “Slytherin lead, sixty point to zero ≠—Bludger _targeting_ Harry—the Bludger’s been tampered with—Oliver calling a time out.” She watches as the Gryffindors land, the Bludger currently being whacked away by Fred and George.

“Time’s up for Gryffindor to decide, and there Harry goes—with the _tampered_ Bludger.” Hermione grimaces, the crowd crying out as Harry starts to court the Bludger in a dance of an unwanted suitor. But Harry hangs in the air still too long, and the Bludger rams into his arm. There are cries of alarm as they all hear the crunch of bone breaking.

“Bludger breaks Harry’s arm—and he’s off!” Harry dives straight towards Draco.

“Someone get that Bludger secured!” Hermione calls out, and suddenly she sees what Harry did.

“Gryffindor catches the Snitch—and he’s falling!” Hermione leaps up, grabbing her broom at her feet and jumps out of the Staff Box. Flying under Harry, she catches him with a grunt, aiming her hand at the Bludger still coming at Harry.

_Finitie Incantatem!_

A powerful jet of sparks shoot from her fingers, shattering the Bludger in a small explosion as it rains down in glittery pieces. Slowly circling to the ground, she unsheathes her wand at her neck with a silent _Quieting Charm_. Sheathing it again, she cradles Harry, checking his arm. It’s not broken—it’s shattered.

The Gryffindor team land around them, looking nervously at Harry. The Rat pushes his way forwards, his smile bright.

≠ “Oh, no, not you,” Harry moans, ≠ holding his arm.

≠ “Doesn’t know what he’s saying,” ≠ the Rat says over Harry, pushing up his sleeve.

“Harry’s seeing Madam Pomfrey and that’s final,” Hermione says coldly, but the Rat shakes his head.

“Nonsense sweet girl! I can heal him up quick, a simple _Brackium Emendo_, no move aside please,” He says, and Hermione narrows her eyes. She doesn’t know that spell, but she knows Latin. As he aims his wand, she snatches it away. He stares at her, his smile turning sour at the edges. Hermione raises an eyebrow, challenging him.

His eyes struggles to hold hers, and their stare off is broken by Madam Pomfrey’s appearance. Pushing the weak Alpha to the side, she levitates Harry onto her stretcher floating next to her. Humming smugly, Hermione follows the Gryffindor team off the Pitch.

* * *

Hermione lurches awake, something shrill screaming as Err’sh whistles and whistles.

“BLOODY HELL HERMIONE! SHUT UP YOUR FUCKING BIRD AND KEEP IT IN THE OWLRY OR I WILL!” Pansy roars, sitting up and glaring at Hermione.

“Pansy Parkinson! Don’t you talk to her like that!” Daphne shouts.

“Ugh!” Millicent moans.

“How about all you shut the fuck up!” Beta Tracey shrieks. Hermione looks at Err’sh, wings flapping to keep stable as he pins down a screaming Dobby.

“You better have a brilliant explanation for this, Elf.” She growls, and the other girls look over.

“Dobby?” Pansy says groggily, rubbing her eyes.

“Stupid Elf,” Beta Tracey grumbles, burrowing her head under her pillow.

“Dobby is so sorry! Dobby tried to warn Young Miss and Young Mister! Dobby thought they’s were safe!” He squeaks. Hermione narrows her eyes, getting up. He exhausts himself, panting as Err’sh clacks his beak in his face, flaring his wings. Pansy and Daphne come over to her bed.

“What did you do Elf?” Pansy sneers. Dobby pulls on his ears, distressed.

“Dobby was to block the barrier against—he’s can’t say! But he’s was supposed to against Master’s enemies! But Young Miss’s was with a Veela, and she’s scared Dobby! Dobby had to enchant the Bludger to—” His squeak turns to a gurgle when Hermione’s hand closes around his neck. Pulling him closer, she snarls in his face.

“_Your Bludger?!_” She breathes, deathly calm. Daphne crosses her arms, scowling, while Pansy looks confused. Dobby nods frantically. Hermione grip grows stronger.

“Harry? He’s your ‘Master’s’ enemy?” She demands.

“What? Lord Malfoy? What are you talking about Hermione?” Pansy asks, her eyes narrows.

“Shh,” Daphne hisses, elbowing Pansy.

“You could of killed him,” She shakes the Elf.

“No Young Miss! Not _really_ kill him, ≠ merely main, or seriously injure, ≠—until—Dobby can’t tell!” The Elf whimpers, and Daphne speaks up.

“Mio, there’s something in his hand,” Pansy glances at the Beta at the nickname. Hermione takes the piece of paper from the Elf, letting him pop away. She reads it, her grip tightening.

“What does it say?” Pansy asks annoyed.

“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened again.”

* * *

Hermione sneaks into the Infirmary as a mouse the next morning, morphing back when she approaches the curtained off bed. It’s Harold, her sweet, loyal Harold; frozen, eyes staring into nothing. A corked, frozen phial filled with potion held by frozen hands in front of his face. She wonders if they told his Muggle parents about his . . . Affliction.

Probably not.

She visits Harold every day, accompanied by Luna and Neville. She also sees Conner and Justin a lot, they staying for their friend and dormmate. Besides Mrs. Norris’s bed, Err’sh perches in vigilance. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the staff, students are buying from the Market in vast quantities. So Hermione decides to pay a visit to the reigning Liege-Lord.

Silently climbing up the boy’s staircase, she finds Alpha Adrian Pucey’s dorm. All five boys are inside, look at her in shock.

“Out.” She orders, all of them hurrying to obey. She catches Adrian by the arm, pushing him back into the dorm. She shuts and locks the door with her Thrall. Sauntering over to a chair next to one of the beds, she reclines in it, waving him to sit on the bed opposite of her.

“Should I be addressing you as my Liege-Lord, or better yet, King-in-waiting of Slytherin?” She asks, seeing him tense up.

“As I am a lower rank than you, you may address me as you will. I renounced my will to claim King-in-waiting, I was wrong to assume I had the power,” He replies carefully. She snorts.

“Of course you assumed wrong, you have not the fraction of power that you wish to wield. However, desperate times usher in for desperate measures. So, I am woeful to inform you that as your King-in-waiting; it’s time for you to earn your place in Court.” Hermione drawls, and Adrain swallows.

“What does my King-in-waiting of Slytherin will of me?” Now she smirks.

“You may keep your Market, your eyes and your ears and your reach. You simply must report to me, _daily_. I ask of nothing else.” His fists unclench.

“I accept, King-in-waiting of Slytherin.”

* * *

Most if not all of the school goes to the first Dueling Club meeting on Saturday, all excited. Hermione shrugs off her outer black robe, tying if around her waist, her wand and wand sheath strapped to her inner left arm. Daphne braided her hair in a French braid, wrapping it atop her head. Astoria added the green bow.

Entering the Great Hall, she stands with Astoria and Daphne, the latter sighing dreamily when she sees the Rat. Astoria sneers, and Hermione wraps her arm around the young Alpha close to her in approval. The four long tables are pushed along the sides of the Hall, and a golden stage is set up against one wall.

The rest of the school trickles in when the Rat strides in grinning madly, followed by a scowling Professor Snape follows. Hermione sneers as the Rat continues to crow. Her sneer changes into a snicker and Astoria barks out into mocking laughter when the Rat is blasted off the stage by Professor Snape.

Daphne scowls at them both.

Then the students start pairing off, and Hermione’s pushed and maneuvered by the crowd. She looks up, standing in front of a Fifth year Hufflepuff. Alpha Cedric Diggory is as strong as he is kind, if the rumors are to be believed. He goes light on the first round of disarms, and Hermione dismisses all of them calmly with clicks of her hand.

His eyes widen at her display of wandless and wordless magic. Smirking at her, he shoots an _Expelliarmus_ hard at her, Hermione countering with her own from her fore and middle finger. Soon, a small circle opens around them, both only castingand deflecting _Disarming Spells_. Professor Snape steps in, signaling the end of the mock duel. Applause rings, and Hermione and Cedric bow to each other.

“Brilliant! Brilliant mock dueling! Now how about a _real_ mock duel, eh? Let’s have ≠ Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley—”

“Bad idea Professor Lockhart,” ≠ Professor Snape interrupts the Rat, his eyes sweeping over the students.

≠ “How about Malfoy and Potter?” ≠ But at this, Draco speaks up next to Professor Snape.

“I can’ttt, sir, Tttruce-oattth.” He mutters, his ‘t’s more pronounced due to his tongue slit. Professor Snape’s tightens in a scowl, and he glares at the Rat.

“Very well! Er—Mendonica and Diggory! You two were dueling splendidly, now come up, now, Miss Mendonica, to duel correctly,” Hermione turns away from him, staring down at Cedric. The Alpha looks distinctly uncomfortable with Professor Snape looming over him.

“Lockhart, I propose they be allowed the use of other . . . Spells.” Professor Snape sneers, and the Rat heartily agrees. Cedric’s face pales, then hardens in determination. Professor Snape stalks over to Hermione, whispering into her ear, as she watches the Rat prance around Diggory. The other Houses look worried, while the Slytherins glare at them.

“Show enough to prove a hint of your strength, but not a spell more. No wordless or wandless.” He advises, Hermione nodding. The two adults leave them, the others backing up to the sides of the walls. Cedric roll his wand in his fingers. Hermione, channeling her inner Professor Snape, unsheathes her wand into her hand with a dramatic twist of her wrist.

— . —

_Sonorus!_ = Amplifying Charm

_Finitie Incantatem!_ = General Counter-Spell

_Quietus_ = Quieting Charm

_Brackium Emendo_ = Bone Disappearing Charm

_Expelliarmus_ = Disarming Spell 2x


	4. Mock Duel For Dummies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione duels; Hermione hisses; Hermione reflects.

Turning on their heels, and the Rat counts down from ten. They take steps with each count.

“Ten!” Step, Hermione draws her left hand lazily slow upwards, the tip of her wand starting to pulsate with scarlet light. It feels strange to channel through a wand, but she knows she can still string her spells together efficiently.

“Nine!” Step, her left hand is above her head, leaving a trail of light in her wand’s wake.

“Eight!” Step, she raises her right hand next to her wand as if brace it.

“Seven!” Step, she funnels more magic, controlling the flow with her right hand.

“Six!” Step, she drags her wand and hand downwards and sideways across her body.

“Five!” Step, she slows, her right hand lowering to pulsating, spitting ball of light.

“Four!” Step, her wand is pointing down, bathing the floor and walls in a blood red hue.

“Three!” Step, she crosses her wand back to her left side, magic thrumming in the air.

“Two!” Step, her arm is bent in over her head, wand aimed behind herself. She steadies.

“One!”

“_Expelliarmus!_” She roars, pivoting on her heels and snapping her arm in a half-flick. The resounding _CRACK_ of lightning bursts from her wand, the bolts of magical energy so powerful it physically shocks the closest students. The kickback jerking her hand back a bit, the supercharged main bolt missing Cedric’s dodging body by mere centimeters. But the multiple smaller bolts stun parts of him numb.

Surprised and shocked screams sound as the bolt shatters Professor Snape’s readily casted _Protego Totalum_. She gives Cedric a second to recover, then she sends another _Disarming Spell_ at him, the Alpha barely jumping away.

“_Confundo-__Petrificus Totalus!_” He cries, Hermione side-stepping it easily.

“_Anteoculatia-Accio,_” she drawls, Cedric jerking forwards by his clothes to the hex, but he dodges at the last minute. Hermione waves her wand in a circle, and goes on the offensive.

“_Avis-Incendio,_” a flock of birds soar from her wand, bursting into flames. Cedric stumbles back.

“_Aqua Eructo-Depulso!_” He shouts, a jet of water hitting the birds straight on, dousing the flames, and banishes the three birds that managed to survive.

“_Mollit-Deprimo-Alarte Ascendare!_” Hermione casts, a gasp ringing out at three-spell combination. Cedric cries out as the stone under him softens, stumbling to regain his footing. But he’s slammed to the unstable floor, pressure holding him down while her magic tries to push him up at the same time.

It’s a war of gravity. Smirking, Hermione stalks closer for the finishing blow. Cedric’s body flails, and his mouth keeps opening and closing. Stopping at the edge of the softened floor, she aiming her wand at his eyes. Suddenly he spits a word out, and she realizes too late he’s been trying to cast.

“_S-S-Serpensortia!_”

A huge black snake launches itself at her, fangs bared for her throat.

* * *

Hermione throws herself to the side, but she’s still in close range. The snake’s fangs sink into her shoulder, it’s momentum and weight toppling her. Screams ring out, and the snake’s bulk thrashes around her. It bites down harder, and she reacts on instinct.

‡_RELEASSSE ME!_‡ She hisses, and it jerks it’s fangs from her. Slithering backwards off her, it lowers its head docilely at her feet. There’s silence as she glares at Cedric, her shoulder burning. The Alpha Hufflepuff stands shakily, her spell canceled, his Housemates assisting him. Slowly rising, Hermione snarls wordlessly. They still haven’t completed the mock duel.

‡_Exxxpelliarmusss!_‡ She hisses, Cedric’s wand flying to hand.

‡_Thisss isss the wizzzard who sssummoned me to harm a Ssspeaker?!_‡ The snake rears up, hissing furiously. The Hufflepuffs shriek, backing away. She waves her wand over her shoulder, pushing her magic through her body. The poison dribbles out of healing puncture wounds, seeping into her uniform.

‡_Ssstop,_‡ she orders, and the snake lowers itself, coiling around her feet. Everyone is staring at Hermione in shock, and she sheathes her wand. Tossing Cedric’s over to him, the clatter of wood breaks the silence.

“What the bloody hell did you say?!” Sally-Anne Perks, a Hufflepuff Beta from Hermione’s Sorting gasps. A low, rumbling mutter starts out, everyone she can see looking at her fearfully, or in the Slytherin’s case, calculating. Professor Snape’s eyes are so narrow they are slits. She sees Harry’s white face, his eyes glued on the snake rubbing its head against her ankles.

Hermione clears her face of any emotion, and climbs off the stage, the large snake following her. Students scramble away from her, leaving a wide empty circle before Hermione. The snake rises up and nuzzles against her hand. Leaning a little, she doesn’t break her stride as she picks it up, it wrapping around her arms.

Suddenly Astoria shoves her way forwards, marching up to stand right by Hermione’s side. She smiles, and they walk out of the Great Hall. Hearing footsteps behind them, Daphne and Beta Tracey appear with grim smiles. Soon, the rest of Slytherin House march out. She even spots Luna, Neville, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Peter, the Weasley twins, and oddly enough two Hufflepuffs; Alpha Susan and Omega Hanna.

Nodding her thanks, she’s swept into the safety of the Slytherin Common Room. Sitting in her chair closest to the fire, most of the younger Slytherins lingering. Most of the Sixth years and up leave. There’s a brief moment of silence, and then Astoria speaks, her voice in awe.

“You’re a Parselmouth.”

Hermione settles her elbow on the armrest, leaning her head on the back of her hand. The snake curls around her shoulders, it’s head nuzzling her cheek.

“I am.”

There’s subtle looks passed around her.

“You’re Slytherin’s Heir,” Draco says softly. Hermione shrugs.

‡_Why doesss he call you that, Ssspeaker?_‡ The snake hisses.

‡_Mossst Ssspeakersss in Britain are dessscccended from him,_‡ she explains.

“King-in-waiting of Slytherin, may I, Alpha Lord Marcus Flint, Heir of the Great House of Flint, humble petition for forming your Guard?” Marcus asks formally, kneeling with his head bowed. A curious air floats about. Hermione flicks her eyes at him, considering his request.

“I grant your petition, Lord Flint.You shall vet your choices through my Beta, Lady Nettlebed,” Marcus nods, and Beta Tracey looks downright gleeful. Stroking the snake, Hermione passes the current King of Slytherin, Alpha Merula Snyde. Her Queen, Alpha Ismelda Murk, and Beta, Barnaby Lee, flank her closely.

They lock eyes, the King sneering neutrally, but knows as a Seventh year, her power is dwindling as Hermione gains more favor. The Alpha is lucky that Hermione isn’t interested in challenging her.

* * *

Hermione lets the whispers slide off her, but she loathes how her Library section has been taken over by whispering students. Neville and Luna stick by her, enduring the whispers as well. After their duel, she hasn’t seen a lick of Cedric, but she doesn’t really care that much. Her outer robes move a bit, and she peels back to collar to see her new and second Familiar.

Eros flicks a pale blue tongue at her. He’s a huge snake, most of his body coiled tightly around her torso, and part of her right thigh. Granted, almost twenty-five percent his four-point-five meter length tapers off to a thin, almost whip-like tail. His coffin-shaped head is as big as her whole hand, with a sharp brow ridge that frames his medium-size eyes.

The eyes themselves, are grayish, with shades of dark blueish-grey nearly black, the pupil surrounded by a silvery white. He had let her open his mouth last night, revealing his six-point-five millimeter, white fangs. The fangs had stood out against his dark purple-black mouth. Hermione smiles down at the Black Mamba, knowing they’re the second longest venomous snake species, the King Cobra being the first.

He slithers a bit further out from under her robes, nuzzling her. His black scales have a slight purple sheen to them, with a dark grey underbelly, blending in against her back cloak. His muscled body tightens a bit, a reminder of his one-point-six kilograms-ish weight. Hermione enjoys his presence, not to say that the snake and Err’sh didn’t clash that morning when they first meet.

*Hermione Cage-Breaker, you have a snake on you!* Err’sh had screeched.

‡_Sssueensss-Ssspeaker-King [Queen-Speaker-King], there isss an intruder!_‡ Eros had hissed. Now, also sitting with them, is Daphne and Astoria. With Marcus dictating her Guard patrols, she’s always in constant Slytherin company. Although with Daphne, the Beta never follows her when Hermione wants some alone time.

Excusing herself, she leaves, Daphne sighs, and Astoria narrows her eyes.

“I’ll be fine, ma Louve, [my Wolf,]” she soothes, slowly extracting Eros. He slithers over to Astoria, wrapping around her. And also holding her down. Hermione exits the Library, morphing into a male Lammergeier. Flying about the outside of the castle, she passes by the Hospital Wing, then swoops over Hagrid’s Hut. The Half-Giant is feeding Err’sh another pile of rooster bones.

Swooping around the castle once more, she flies through an open window. Landing on the floor, she checks that no one is abound, and morphs back. Walking around a corner, she freezes when she sees Sally-Anne Perks, and her House Ghost, the Fat Friar, both looking towards her, faces frozen in states of shock.

Peeves appears through the ceiling, choking on his mad crackle when he sees Hermione standing in front of the two victims. His opaque face pales.

“Peeves, don’t you dare sp—” Hermione hisses, but he starts screaming in fear.

“_THERE’S BEEN ANOTHER ATTACK! EVEN THE DEAD SHALL NOT BE SPARED!_” He screams, flying off madly. Students pouring out into the halls, screams and panic ensuing. Hermione shoves her way to the wall, avoiding the panicking students.

“There she is!” A Ravenclaw in her year, Beta Mandy Brocklehurst, accuses. Hermione glares at her, and the Beta pales, her friends pulling her away quickly. Professor Snape appears, herding Hermione away.

* * *

They head through a series of halls Hermione doesn’t recognize, then stop by a stone gargoyle.

“Lemon drop,” Professor Snape drawls, the gargoyle leaping to the side, revealing a spiral stair case, around a griffin statue. Obvious bias much, a griffin at the door? But she takes a breath, getting ready to meet Dumbledore in his office. Professor Snape doesn’t accompany her.

Taking the steps two at time, she opens the door to an office full of odd objects, and no Dumbledore. A gurgling noise pulls Hermione’s attention, she gasps when she sees a Phoenix. Judging from the state of the bird, it’s close to its Burning Day. Right on cue, the Phoenix bursts into flames, Hermione watching as a baby Phoenix peeps its head out of the ashes.

The door opens, and Dumbledore enters, his eyes softening when he sees them.

“Ah, Fawkes, I’ve been waiting for him to do that.”

She nods. Then his eyes grow serious.

“Miss Mendonica, I and the staff, are aware of the rumors concerning your heritage.”

Hermione stares at him, daring him to call her out.

“But I do not believe you are behind the attacks.”

Hermione raises an eyebrow at him, oddly surprised at this.

“Is that all?” She asks.

“Is there anything you wish to tell me?” He counters.

“No . . . Headmaster.”

* * *

Winter Break starts today. Students are leaving in droves, many wanting to put some distance between them and the supposedly “outed” Heir of Slytherin. Mandy and her dormmates were especially keen on leaving, and everyone gave them a wide berth. Draco had snickered, but his eyes remained on Eros wrapped around her.

‡_Sshe’ss sso fixated, it’ss amussing,_‡ he had hissed. Now there’s hardly anyone in the castle, only a handful remain; Conner Moon, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Harry, Ron, Luna, Beta Tracey, Draco, Vincent, Gregory, Astoria, and Harold—of course. Yule gifts arrive, but Hermione doesn’t pay much attention to them. When the weekends roll around, Hermione readies herself for a calm Saturday.

Leaving Eros with Err’sh to bond with a petrified Mrs. Norris, she walks to her Common Room, spotting Draco sitting in his chair with Vincent and Gregory across from him.

“Hey Hermione—gettt a loaddd of ttthis,” Draco tosses her a copy of the _Daily Prophet_: _Inquiry at the Ministry of Magic_ by Skeeter. That Beta certainly has a way with words.

“Honestttly, ttthattt Arnolddd Weasel—” Draco starts

“—Arthur Weasley,” Vincent interrupts.

“Whatttever his name, are you going to keep ttties wittth ttthose Weasley here?” He asks her. Vincent’s faces twists, and Gregory looks a bit pale. Hermione glances at the two Beta’s, carefully sniffing. Gregory meets her eyes, and doesn’t lower them for a full three seconds.

“Oh, I justtt realizeddd, you coulddd atttttack ttthe Rattt, ttthattt woulddd splendddiddd!” Draco snickers, and she rolls her eyes.

“Yes Draco, I’m sure that would go over so well,” she drawls sarcastically, and she sees Vincent and Gregory’s eyes widen.

“S-So you’re gonna do it?” Gregory asks, and Hermione opens her mouth, but a blond blur launches itself at her.

“Did you open my Yule present?!” Astoria squeals, clinging onto Hermione like a bur. Holding her arms around the young Alpha, Hermione smiles.

“I did,” she flicks Astoria’s nose gently. The young Alpha had given her magical, hand woven bracelet of blond hair. She lifts her right hand, her sleeve falling back to reveal the gift.

“_Anyway,_” Draco stresses out the word to get the attention back to him.

“My lorddd fattther tolddd me ttthattt back when ttthe Chhhamber was firsttt opened, a Muggleborn was killeddd.”

Hermione eyes him curiously.

“Do you know who?” Gregory asks.

“Yeah, apparentttly she haunttteddd her bully, ttthen came back here. She lives in ttthe pipes I ttthink—”

Vincent suddenly clutches his girth. Hermione watches him suspiciously. The two bumbling fools race out of the Common Room, Vincent yelling, “Stomachache! Bathroom!”

“Astoria, stay here, you too Draco,” she orders, leisurely walking after the two boys. She catches up to them, seeing them in mid-transformation back into Harry and Ron. _Polyjucice Potion_. They leave the giant pair of shoes in front of a closet, and race in their socks to Myrtle’s bathroom, slamming the door shut. Leaning against the door, she listens to the Gryffindors.

“That wasn’t a complete bust, I just wish we found out who the real Heir is!” Ron says.

“Yeah, but at least it’s not Malfoy, he’d probably off the whole Muggleborn population in school,” Harry says, as the shifting of clothing sounds.

“Yeah, and did you hear his new lisp? Also Luna overdid her acting, she was bloody terrifying,” Ron grunts.

“Oh that wasn’t me, I was here the whole time,” Beta Tracey’s muffled voice calls out. Hermione narrows her eyes, wondering if she heard wrong. There’s silence.

“Bloody hell, that’s the real Hermione?!” Ron gasps.

“She’s real when she’s with or without us,” Harry chides.

“Luna, open up, what’s . . . Wrong,” Ron gasps, and Moaning Myrtle titters.

“Oh, I’ve always wondered what I would look like as a brunette,” Beta Tracey voice says in a dreamily, Luna-like fashion. Hermione slips through the door, seeing her slowly change back into Luna. Myrtle choses that moment to appear, she looking past the trio to Hermione.

“Oh hullo Slytherin, back today too?” Harry and Ron whip around, eyes wide, while Luna merely waves. Myrtle titters to herself, floating over to behind Hermione.

“Oooh, your friends were hiding this from you!” She starts wailing, floating high to watch them.

“How much did you see?” Ron demands just as Harry speaks.

“We were going to tell you,” Hermione holds up a hand, and they shut up. Luna starts humming a strange, eerie tune, and skips over to Hermione, enveloping her in a comfortable hug. Hermione looks down at the Gamma, who’s currently rubbing her cheek on her robes.

“For the record, you make terrible Slytherins,” she announces, and guides the still clinging blond out of the bathroom.

* * *

They duo walk in silence with Hermione in the lead into the Library, finding Neville at their study table. With a jerk of her head, he follows them through the Restricted section, then to the Mirror of Erised room. Needing no prompting, the three step up close to the Mirror. Hermione notes that they’re in the order of their Mirror selves.

Except now Harold’s gone, his Mirror reflection blurry. Mirror Luna’s wearing asimple white shift, floor length with a length of rope tied around her waist, the ends hanging lopsidedly. Her shiny, grey, metal crown sits low over her forehead, four spikes crowded at the back of the crown, all at different lengths and widths. The Gamma’s hair is down in it’s wavy, wild ponytail, and she’s standing relaxed, the same farseeing smile on her face.

Her throne is blue and grey marble, curvy, with irregular and interesting carvings of shapes and creatures mixed together.

“Woah, Luna, you’re _her_, you’re the fourth!” Neville gasps.

“Oh, I didn’t know there were three other of me, but I suppose I would like to meet me then, Lord Longbottom,” Luna says dreamily, her tone not sarcastic at all.

“What? You don’t have to call me that, and I just meant, you know, all of us are here,” He rambles.

“I hope I am here, although sometimes I’m not. It comes with being a Gamma I suppose. I do love being an imploding nebula,” Luna continues, tilting her head at the shocked gasp at her admission.

“You’re a _Gamma?_ But the DMLE Presentation’s Third Law—you could be expelled!” Neville blurts, fear in his eyes, but Luna shakes her head, grinning at him.

“It’s alright Lord Longbottom, I willingly serve my Alfā Liege-Lady.”

Hermione frowns at the Presentation.

“Don’t you mean ‘Alpha’?” She asks, and Luna frowns.

“You are _Alfā,_” Luna says seriously, and Hermione goes along with it.

* * *

Hermione and Moaning Myrtle soon quickly become decent companions, the Ghost Is pleasant to speak with once you look past the tears and melodramatics. Today, as Hermione and Luna make their way to Myrtle’s bathroom, having dismissed her Guard, they see she’s flooded it again. Opening the door, Luna spots Myrtle sulking by a window.

“Myrtle? Who upset you?” Hermione says, turning off all the water faucets. The Ghost wails.

“I don’t know! I was just sitting in my toilet and someone threw a book at me!”

“That’s not very nice,” Luna says. Myrtle wails again.

“Everyone throws books at me! It’s a game to them! Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings!” Myrtle howls as she once again slams into the pipes. Hermione and Luna look at each other, then at a small, brown book. Hermione walks over to it, Luna at her side.

Turning her hand so that her palm faces up, the book levitates upwards, floating in front of them. Hermione revolves it around in front of them. It’s made in Vauxhall Road, London. She dries it with a concentrated blow of air, her magic doing the rest, then waves her hand to open the first page.

“_Alpha Ouroboros,_” Luna reads.

“A pseudonym,” Hermione waves her fingers, the pages flipping.

“No. I’m surprised the diary is full,” Luna says dreamily. Hermione glances at her, then at the blank pages.

“_Apareicum,_” Luna’s wand points at the dairy, but nothing happens, other than a date appearing.

“_January first, nineteen-forty-three,_” Hermione reads, and Luna smiles at her.

“It’s new.”

“It’s fifty years old,” Hermione retorts.

“Age is deceptive,” Luna replies with a whimsical smile. Something about that makes her think.

“_Revelio,_” Hermione mutters, and the book shudders, black mist sizzling from the empty pages before stopping. They share a look, and Hermione manifests a cloth, wrapping the book safely inside. Luna shudders, going completely still as she stares at the diary.

“Time’s hands spin round and round, but here I sit,” She mutters.

— . —

_Expelliarmus!_ = Disarming Spell

_Protego Totalum_ = Total Shield Charm

_Expelliarmus_ = Disarming Spell

_Confundo-Petrificus Totalus!_ = Confusing Charm + Full Body-Bind Curse String

_Anteoculatia-Accio!_ = Antler Hex + Summoning Charm String

_Avis-Incendio_ = Bird-Conjuring Charm + Fire-Making Spell String

_Aqua Eructo-Depulso!_ = Water-Jet Charm + Banishing Charm String

_Mollit-Deprimo-Alarte Ascendare!_ = Cushioning Charm + Pressure Charm + Ascending Charm String

_S-S-Serpensortia!_ = Snake Summoning Sell

_Allows a human drinker to temporarily assume the form of anther person_ = Polyjuice Potion

Luna’s humming The Wolven Storm (Priscilla’s Song) from The Witcher: Wild Hunt

_Apareicum,_ = Revealing Charm

_Revelio,_ = Removing Charm


	5. Diary And A Horcrux In One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are coming to a head for Hermione and her friends!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Hermione's writing to Ouroboros, her writing is in bold so ya'll can differentiate whose writing.

Hermione narrows her eyes at it, then at Luna. The Chamber opened _exactly_ fifty years ago. Luna blinks, then smiles once more.

“You need a happiness booster, even though you’re always constantly surrounded by Nargles, because—”

“—because Nargles like Veela, I know Luna,” Hermione replies, and the Gamma smiles brightly, glad that Hermione remembered.

“They love Veela, and you’re one of a kind,” She replies.

* * *

“I doubt admiring gold plaques will bring me happiness, unless we smelt them into chess pieces to sell in Knockturn Alley.” Luna intertwines their fingers with Hermione’s.

“You have a plaque too.” The Gamma points. Under the Slytherin Quidditch team awards, she finds her name on the biggest plaque.

SEEKER

H. E. Mendonica

1990

“Oh and look!” Luna gasps, pointing to another plaque.

“_Awarded to Tom Riddle, Special Awards to the School?_ British Minister of Magic Riddle?” Hermione asks. Luna hums.

“Wasn’t his campaign to run based on the rumor that he found the Heir?” Hermione mutters to herself.

“Lord Minister Riddle never gave a solid statement.” Luna says dreamily.

“Perhaps this Ouroboros figure might of been in Hogwarts in Minister Riddle’s time.” She theorizes.

“You’ve just attracted a lot more Nargles, my Liege-Lady.” Luna sighs airily, leaning against Hermione.

* * *

That night, whilst her roommates sleep, Hermione opens the blank diary. Tuning into the diary’s magic carefully, and the diary’s magic seems to explode. Hermione scrambles away from it. It’s so thick and grey that it writhes on itself, not a single part of the diary spared. Hermione pants, keeping her focus entirely on the dark mass.

It seems to track her movement, wary of her, as if it’s afraid that she’ll severe it’s link to existence. It tries to lash out at her, but it can’t reach her mind. Hermione’s remembers her reading from the Philosopher’s Stone, of the brief mention of Horcruxes. Instinctively, she knows, this diary is one.

* * *

There aren’t any more attacks, which makes Hermione even more wary. More importantly, it makes her Guard edgy. The mandrakes Professor Sprout has been nurturing have been growing, and Hermione estimates they’ll soon get the petrified victims back to their normal selves.

The Rat, however, thinks it’s his doing that the attacks have stopped, and he brags to anyone who will listen. To honor his “accomplishment”, the weak Alpha decides to make Valentine a day to remember. When Hermione enters the Great Hall, she’s hit with a confetti rain, and bloody hearts everywhere.

Looking towards the High Table, Hermione can visibly see a muscle twitching in Professor McGonagall’s eye, and Professor Snape’s stiff straight back. Then the Rat unleashes his cupid dressed Dwarfs. Hermione stiffens, turning in her seat to bare her teeth at the five Dwarves convening on her.

Flicking her tongue, she hisses deep in in the back of her throat, the sound startling them. But her hiss is mixed with a deep growl, and she looks down at Astoria in her lap, still growling at the fleeing Dwarves.

“Astoria, stop that, we’re in public!” Daphne reprimands, but the young Alpha doesn’t listen to her. Hermione taps the young Alpha on her nose, the sound cutting off as already dark green eyes; darken; turn up to her.

“Manners, Astoria,” She chides, and Astoria blushes, but doesn’t look down.

“But you were doing it,” She whines.

“I’m older.”

“By only a year!” Astoria retorts, but her eyes lighten again so that Hermione can once again see the white spot in the young Alpha’s left eye. All throughout her classes, Dwarves keep barging in, but one look at Hermione and they flee. Snickering at their reactions, the rest of her classmates stick close to her, regardless of her supposed ‘Heir’ title.

At the end of the day, Hermione walks into her dorm, ready to call it a night. But she pauses, looking at her trunk. Making a snap decision, she levitates the Horcrux-diary to her desk, pulling up a chair. Morphing her eyes into a cat’s she waves her hand over the book, opening it to the first page.

Summoning two quills and an ink pot, Hermione snaps her fingers, cloning the quills to each other. Taking one of the quills, she holds it straight up against the page. Then, activating the magic, she miming dipping the quill in ink, the other copying it. Then she starts to write in the air, the other quill copying her motions.

_ **April 29th, 1992 ~** _

_ **found this diary in the bathroom.** _

The ink is absorbed, then new inked words appear.

_Hello, this diary belongs to Ouroboros. How did you come about my diary in the bathroom?_

Hermione purses her lips. The Horcux-dairy’s handwriting is smooth and elegant.

_ **It was just on the floor. Is this diary of yours a two-way book?** _

_It is. Might I inquire the name of whose’s writing to me?_

Hermione choses a name randomly.

_ **My name is Sarah.** _

_Well Sarah, it’s nice to meet you._

_ **Ouroboros, what do you know of the Chamber of Secrets?** _

_A little, why do you ask?_

_ **Students are being attacked! They say a Slytherin Alpha is controlling the monster, but Dumbledore won’t expel her!** _

_Ah, I’m truly sorry to hear this. When the Chamber was opened, a Muggleborn was killed. Only later I found the culprit. I’m saddened I did not succeed in keeping Hogwarts safe._

_ **It’s not your fault Ouroboros, at least you tried, but do you know what the monster is?** _

_I can show you . . . If you wish?_

_ **. . .** _

_ _

_ **Alright.** _

* * *

Hermione’s suddenly pulled into the Horcrux’s memory, falling until she finds herself in an office. Dumbledore’s office, but without all the weird little things crowding every corner, and no ash tray for Fawkes. All color is dulled, as if worn with age. A wizard older than Dumbledore sits at the desk, writing letters. This must be Hogwarts as Ouroboros lived it.

Then the Alpha himself enters, his Prefect badge gleaming against Slytherin robes. He’s roughly sixteen, if Hermione guess correctly. He’s a tall lanky Alpha, with short, combed over light brown hair, and brilliant green eyes. He eerily could pass off as Harry’s elder brother. He and the old wizard—Headmaster Alpha Dippet—talk about letting Ouroboros stay in Hogwarts for Christmas, when talk of the attacks come up.

Ouroboros leaves, Hermione following, as he decides to walk to the dungeons, where Potions is held. He waits in the shadows, when Hermione hears the familiar gruff voice of Hagrid. Hermione faces palms when she hears the incriminating words. Ouroboros and Hagrid face off, when the thing behind Hagrid bursts free from its confinements.

Hermione jumps, hissing as a young Acromantula flees the castle. In a whirl of color, she’s back in her chair, the Horcrux-diary lying innocently shut.

* * *

Handing off her Quidditch Announcer duties for today’s match back to Jordan, she pounds on Hagrid’s door the next day. It opens revealing a confused Hagrid.

“What’re yer doing here Hermione?” He invites her in, she standing next to his table.

“You released an Acromantula during your Third year the first time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, did you not?” Hermione says, and Hagrid freezes, looking down at her. He stands tall, but she’s not intimidated.

“What?” He asks defensively.

“You were expelled for letting the monster out, killing a Muggleborn.”

“That ain’ true! Aragog didn’ hurt anyone! He—” Hagrid cuts himself short, fear paling on his face.

“Oh posh, it’s _clearly_ evident you don’t have a trace of Slytherin blood in you whatsoever,” Hermione drawls, and the Half-Giant doesn’t know what to make of the backhanded compliment.

“Er, then what yer doing here?” He asks confused.

“The pondering curiosity of why you had an _Acomantula_ in the first place.”

“He’d never hurt no one, he’s been livin’ in the Forest with his family, staying out of the Centaur’s lands, yer know, good fellow.” Hagrid looks down sadly. Hermione’s remembers the giant spider and his colony who killed Quirrell. She’s about to respond, when she smells wizards approaching. Hermione leaps up morphing in mid-air into a Garden snake.

Her momentum carries her up into the bared rafters, and she winds herself around a roof beam. Hagrid looks up confused at the empty space, when his door opens.

“Evening Hagrid,” Dumbledore says gravely.

“Wha—” Hagrid’s sentence is cut off when a tall, lean Alpha enters the hut. Easily over two meters, he’s dressed in sharp black robes, his jet-black hair styled to the sides of his face, accenting his angular features. His dark brown eyes scan the hut, his pale alabaster sticking out like a beacon.

“Terrible times, Mr. Hagrid, attacks on Muggleborns, but this has to end.” The British Minister of Magic says smoothly, his voice a deep baritone.

“But—but—I didn’t—You have ter understand, I didn’t—” Hagrid looks to Dumbledore.

“Minister, I want you to know, Hagrid has my complete trust on the matter.” Dumbledore says the words clipped, but Minister Riddle is already shaking his head.

“Mr. Hagrid’s record goes against him, Headmaster, as it stands, I have to take him with me, for the students safety over the alleged claims of a wizard who has already been accused. If another is caught, then the Ministry will compensate you in an apology.” Minister Riddle says, when a rap sounds at the door.

It opens, and Lord Malfoy walks in, barely containing his sneer.

“What’er yer doing in me house?!” Hagrid roars, taking a step forwards, but Dumbledore looks at Hagrid sharply.

“Now now, that temper of yours will get you no where, as it is, I’m not here to see you, but rather, you _Dumbledore_.” The old Alpha’s eyes narrow, and Minister Riddle watches in silence, his face revealing nothing.

“What do you want of me, Mr. Malfoy?” Lord Malfoy ignores the slight to his title, and takes a scroll, unrolling it almost lazily.

“_Nasty_ decision, Dumbledore, but you’ll find that the governors feel like you’re losing, ah, _touch_, shall we say? Four attacks is it, as of this afternoon? Here is the Order of Suspension, with all twelve signatures accounted for, effective now.”

“How many bribes did yer make, you slimy—”

“Mr. Hagrid, if we could refrain from the name calling, and act as adults, this will go smoother.” Minister Riddle cuts in sharply, and everyone settles a bit. Hermione watches, as Hagrid protests loudly, as Dumbledore gives himself up, Lord Malfoy looking quite pleased with himself, and Hagrid in deep sorrow.

Minister Riddle is the last one to leave, and as he turns around to shut the door, Hermione swears his dark eyes sweep up to look at her.

* * *

Waiting a beat, ignoring Fang’s howls, she runs the conversation over in her head. Four attacks, as of this afternoon. Hermione immediately morphs into a Barn Owl, pushing open a window, flying fast towards the castle. Circling past the Hospital Wing, she hurries to the closest window to the Common Room. Once inside, she morphs back, entering to an empty room.

Hermione barely gets to sit down in her chair, when the portrait door opens, the whole House entering. A small mob breaks from the main crowd, racing towards her.

“Where were you?!” Astoria sobs.

“You’ve got to stop disappearing like this!” Daphne cries.

“Quiddddditttchhh is canceleddd!” Draco whines. Daphne smacks him.

“There’s been a double attack!” Beta Tracey gasps.

“It’s a Ravenclaw Alpha, Penelope Clearwater, and the Mud-Muggleborn Brocklehurst,” Pansy blurts. Professor Snape chooses that moment to storm into the Common Room.

“No Slytherin will be out of the Common Room no later than six in the evening. No more evening activities, Quidditch is postponed, and to and from classes you shall be escorted by a teacher, even to use the restroom.” He orders, silence descending.

“No Snake that leaves this portrait travels alone, you shall be in pairs or more. The other Houses will be looking to Slytherin for someone to blame, _do not_.” His eyes travel over all the Slytherins, letting the message sink in. They linger on her a beat too long. He turns, his cloak billowing out as he stalks out.

Hushed whispers start up, and Hermione sees more than one Slytherin glance her way. Hermione ignores them all. The next days are filled with the high strung tension, as the students walk to classes subdued. Mandy’s dormmates; Alpha Padma Patil, Alpha Morag MacDougal, Omega Sue Li, Beta Lisa Turpin all avoid her like the plague. Padma’s the only Pureblood, Lisa is a Halfblood, and the rest are Muggleborns.

Only the Rat acts indifferent to the tension, and Hermione’s grateful that Draco isn’t going about bragging about Dumbledore’s absence. It seems he’s learning to think before he speaks. Madam Pomfrey’s also closed off the Hospital Wing, fearing the Heir’s retaliation to her patients.

In the Rat class however, it’s like there isn’t a monster in the castle, he believing his “heroic” actions made everything alright.

“Why, cheer up! The culprit has been found and taken to Azkaban!” He crows, a few Gryffindors growling at this. All throughout class, the Rat drops hints that he just knew that Hagrid was a shady character, and that he somehow had something to do with his arrest. Daphne leans over to her ear.

“I wouldn’t mind if _he_ gets attacked,” Hermione tilts her head, contemplating his fate.

* * *

Sitting in the library, Hermione sits in a dark alcove, drumming the table with fingers. Looking around, she takes out the Horcrux-diary, at loss at how to destroy it. She doesn’t want to disturb Err’sh as he’s been with Mrs. Norris, and Eros doesn’t understand much of the Wizarding world to help her in her predicament.

Speaking of, he circles around her shoulders, nuzzling the underside of her throat.

‡_There isss sssomething troubling you, Sssueensss-Ssspeaker-King? [Queen-Speaker-King?]_‡ He hisses.

‡_Yesss. I can not find the ssserpent resssponsssible for the attacksss._‡ Hermione hisses, flipping the page of tome about dangerous creatures. Eros tilts his head, flicking out his tongue.

‡_What do you know?_‡ He hisses suggestively.

‡_Ssspidersss fear it. The Heir isss killing roossstersss. It attacks anything living, but Ghossstsss can be affected. It ssstrikesss at night and ssstudentsss alone—_‡ Hermione cuts herself off, realizing she fits three of the requirements. Eros nods. Cursing, she morphs into a giant bat, picking up Eros as she flies towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom via sonar. Morphing back, she knocks on the Ghost’s stall.

“How did you die?” She demands, and the Ghost’s face changes. Drifting towards Hermione, Myrtle’s almost looks elated.

“Oh I was wondering when you were going to ask me,” She says coyly, sidling up against Hermione, her body going through Hermione’s arm.

“I was crying alone in my stall, hiding from being bullied, when I heard someone. It sounded male, like he was hissing, so I opened my door, I saw yellow, then I _died_.” Myrtle giggles.

“Yellow?” Hermione presses, and Myrtle nods, happy to be discussing her deathday.

“Yes, very yellow, I think like eyes. When I rose, I didn’t see anything, other than my body—did you know it took them ages to find it? My bully found it.” She sounds smug. Suddenly the door opens, Harry entering with a large piece of parchment clutched in his hands.

“Hermione! I have to tell you something,” Harry surges forwards, and Myrtle keens, hovering behind Hermione, an angry spectator. He blanches, taking a step back.

“The monster—it’s—”

“A Basilisk,” Hermione breaths, the clues finally connecting. She shakes her head, grimacing. Why didn’t she realize it sooner?! Eros nods again.

“No—wait—what?” Harry stammers, confused.

“≠ _Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach a gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hated beneath a toad._

“_Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eyes shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it._ ≠” Hermione quotes from memory.

“So—a thousand year old Basilisk is the monster inside the Chamber of Secrets,” Harry concludes, paling considerably.

“Oooooh, how scary.” Myrtle giggles high pitched, Harry looks back and forth between Hermione and Myrtle.

“But—look! Someone broke into your dorm!” Harry blurts out, and Hermione narrowing her eyes at him.

“Come again?”

“I—I saw—” He holds up the parchment. “A name—someone was trashing your dorm!” Harry says, wincing at the weak explanation.

“You have a magical parchment that lets you _spy_ on any _girl’s_ dorm?” Hermione asks incredulously.

“No! It was my Dad’s—”

“_Lord James Potter gave a you a _peeping _tool?!_”

“No! It’s a map of Hogwarts!” Harry shouts, and Hermione blinks.

“Why haven’t you used this to track down the serpent attacking the students?!” Hermione yells, and Harry growls.

“I have! But I can’t really carry this in plain sight can I?! Besides, wild animals don’t come up on the map, only named creatures!” He crouches, opening the tri-folded map.

“Here, _I solemnly swear I am up to no good,_” He says with his wand touching the parchment. Instantly, the words ≠ ‘_Messers. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present, The Marauder’s Map_’ ≠ appear. Hermione sees every detail of Hogwarts castle and the grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing.

It must tap into Hogwarts’ magic itself. There are seven secret passages, that Hermione glimpses, she raising an eyebrow at Harry.

“Er—this person, Orobo, I think, no, it was Orboro—,” Harry stammers awkwardly.

“Ouroboros,” She whispers.

“Wait—you know them?” She ignores him, thinking. The previous owner of the Horcux-diary must of decided to take it back, but why did they throw it away in the first place? Harry sighs, and puts his wand against the map.

“_Mischief managed,_”

* * *

Professor McGonagall announces the next day that the mandrakes will be able to revive the petrified students, a roar of approval rises from each House. Hermione herself claps, but her mind is elsewhere. Three days before exams begin, but that’s ok, she’s got them in the bag. But the Basilisk, someone else in school has to be a Parselmouth to control it.

The only one she knows is Harry, but he isn’t the Heir. As the last class lets out, Harry oddly enough had been absent the whole day. Hermione slides away from her Slytherin friends when she sees Luna beckoning her over. She’s with Ron and Ginny.

“We heard McGonagall talking about Harry,” Ron says, and Hermione knows they’re going to eavesdrop. They quickly slink towards the staff room, Ron pulling the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket. He throws it over them just as the doors open, Hermione having to bend over to stay under. It’s a little tight with four people, and Ginny ends up pressed against her front.

Backing up against the wall, they watch. All the House Heads are all in distress.

“The Heir has finally won, they’ve taken a student into the Chamber!” They’ve never seen Professor McGonagall so undone.

“Who?” Professor Snape asks.

“Harry Potter.” They all stiffen in shock.

“The Heir left their last message, ‘_His ≠ skeleton shall rest in the Chamber forever._” ≠ Professor Sprout murmurs somberly. The door slams open, the Rat strutting in.

“So sorry, grooming my hair, did I miss anything?” He’s oblivious to the hatred his way.

“Just the Alpha we need, the monster has taken a student, now is your time to go save him.” Professor Snape hisses

“Didn’t you claim you knew the entrance of the Chamber?” Madam Sprout asks.

“Oh yes, I quite remember you saying you knew exactly what was in it.” Professor Flitwick squeaks.

“You did say that if you were given control of the situation, everything would be fine,” Professor McGonagall says coldly, all four House Heads rise up together, in a line, staring down at the Rat. Hermione smiles brightly.

“_Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus_. [_Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon._]” Hermione whispers in Latin.


	6. A House Divided Against Itself Cannot Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the Chamber they go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now until I inform ya'll otherwise, my Wednesdays are going to be late updates, since I have my games on Wednesday's. So if I miss a Wednesday, and update on Thursday, that's why.

“I ah, um—”

“Good, now that that’s settled, you will go into the Chamber, and rescue Mr. Potter.” Professor McGonagall orders sternly. The Rat says some words, then flees. The House Heads leaving soon after. Ron rips the Cloak off them.

“Hermione—we got to find him! My Alpha!” Ron gasps, eyes frantic.

“I bet he knew something about the Chamber! That’s why he was taken!” Ginny snarls, hands clenching.

“We have to get my best mate back!” Ron cries. Luna looks over at Hermione, her silver eyes swirl with hidden knowledge.

“You have all the clues, you know where the entrance is.” She says dreamily. Ron looks to Hermione, hope on his face. Hermione straightens, and strides towards Myrtle’s bathroom.

* * *

Turning a corner, they bump into a disheveled Rat, he landing on his arse. The weak Alpha whips his wand whipping out. Hermione darts out from under the Cloak, magic raised.

“_Obliviate!_” His spell rebounds off her shield, hitting him squarely in the chest. Ron’s face is livid.

“He was going to run!” He snarls. Hermione points her hand at the dazed Peacock, he looking around confused.

“_Imperio._” She whispers, the Gryffindors flinching as the Rat’s expression becomes blank. A rush of warmth floods her system, and Hermione gasps silently, her blood singing. _Follow us and don’t speak a word_. Hermione orders him through the curse. He nods, and Hermione turns to the shell shocked Weasley’s.

“You—you just used an _Unforgivable!_” Ron gapes.

“I’d say it was warranted,” Ginny scowls at the Rat.

“The Trace can’t track mist residue.” Luna pants out wistfully. They hurry to Myrtle’s bathroom, approaching the door when a closed-eyed Astoria rounds the corner, tailed closely by Daphne, Beta Tracey, Draco, and Neville.

“_There_ you are!” Daphne growls.

“What’ss up with him?” Draco nods to the Rat.

“Under control,” Hermione says, entering the bathroom.

“Nice,” Astoria says. Walking to the sink the Bloody Baron walked her body to so long ago. Her fingers trace the snake carved into the faucet.

“Hermione Eto Mendonica!” Daphne’s sharp yell has her head turning to Daphne.

“If you think for a second I—_we_—are going to stay on the sidelines—for the _third_ time I might add—while you risk your life again for that stupid Potter—” Ron’s and Ginny’s angry hiss is ignored. “—then King-in-waiting of Slytherin or not; you are _sorely_ mistaken!” During her rant, the Beta stalked forwards, jabbing a finger against Hermione’s chest.

She stares down at angry, brilliant grass-green eyes. A strange urge simmers in her, a flicker of heat flushing by. She pushes it down.

“Alright.” Turning from Daphne, she strokes the marked faucet.

“Close your eyes at any noise.” She orders.

≠ ‡_Open_.‡ ≠

* * *

No one speaks as they stand from the long pipe slide. Walking through the giant silent tunnel, Hermione orders the Rat to light a _Lumos_, walking him first. Neville and Astoria glance at each other when the Alpha wordlessly obeys. When they encounter the snake skin, Neville squeaks, Ron and Luna both there to cover his mouth, but the shrill sound rickshas around the place.

“Sorry.” Neville mutters. They walk further, encountering another snake door.

‡_Open_.‡ Once they’re all through, the door shuts behind them. They slowly proceed into a colossal chamber, the ceiling wreathed in darkness, pillars dotting the room as statues of snakes and dark things line the walls. On the furthest wall, is a giant carving of a man’s face, his mouth open, but the entrance sealed with a wall. Ron spots Harry first.

“Harry!” He runs towards the prone Alpha, the others quick behind. Ron slides to his knees, shaking the Alpha, trying to wake him up. They circle around him, Neville’s eyes tearing.

“Come on mate, this isn’t funny, wake up,” Ron growls. Hermione crouches, checking his pulse.

“He won’t wake.” Everyone whirls around, wands out—in Hermione’s case her hands—and she casts a _Protego Totalum_. Leaning against a pillar, is the young, sixteen year old Ouroboros, his form blurred around the edges. Luna narrows her eyes at him, the most serious Hermione has ever seen her.

“What do you mean he won’t wake?!” Ginny screams at him, clutching her wand tight. Astoria snarls anomalistically at Ouroboros, her wand aimed between his eyes. Hermione slowly rises, her eyes never leaving the Horcrux-projection.

“As he dies, I _live_.” He sneers at Ron’s mindless howl, waving away the sloppily cast _Stupefy_.

“You’re leaching off his soul,” Hermione whispers, and Ouroboros grins, stalking slowly towards them.

“Don’t you dare take another sstep,” Draco growls.

“Or we’ll set the Basilisk on you!” Neville shouts.

“Well, well; a Malfoy with spine. You’d do well with the Dark Arts,” Ouroboros purrs, and Draco shakes his head.

“Get. _Out_.” He growls. Ouroboros smirks.

“No matter, I already have what I’ve waiting so long for—”

“_Reducto!_” Ginny yells, the curse catches Ouroboros off guard, and it obliterates his shoulder. Ouroboros sneers, his detached hand settling on his hip. They watch in horror as the little bits of the Alpha lazily form back together.

“Impressive for a Weasley.” He drawls. Luna takes a step forwards, her wand aimed at him. _Shield us_. Hermione orders the Rat, and he begins to cast a steady stream of protective spells.

“You possessed Lord Potter, and forced him in here when he caught on.” Luna says coldly, her dreaminess gone. Ouroboros smirks at her. Ron’s face pales, looking down at Harry.

“You killed that Muggleborn!” Neville cries, and Ouroboros shrugs. He holds up his Horcrux-diary.

“It was quite easy to get into the Slytherin Common Room, and acquire this again. Little Harry was so fearful that I’d spill all his secrets to you. _Bombarda!_” Ouroboros flings his hand out, the sheer force of the charm breaks the Rat’s shields. The weak Alpha goes flying, screaming all the way until he lands, a crunch ringing out.

* * *

Ouroboros’s laughter fills the space, they all move together. The Beta's spread out around them, Neville guards the back, crouching over Harry, the Alpha’s step up forwards, and Luna keeps right behind Hermione. She presses her hand up against Hermione’s back, she jolts when she feels the same warmth of energy flowing into her.

“Oh this is a surpriseyou’re a pack already,” He sneers. Suddenly he throws both hands out, a rippling blast of unchecked, dark magic. It blasts her shield to bits, and passes through all of them. Hermione hisses, clutching her chest. Luna’s hand falls, as everyone but her collapses. Ouroboros tilts his head at her, his eyes turning red.

“You’re not pure, _no_, you’re not even a witch!” He snarls. Hermione bares her teeth at him, feeling Luna’s magic swirling inside her with hers.

“Such filth desecrating Salazar’s Slytherin’s sacred hall!” He screams, flinging out a wall of fire at her. In a split second, she morphs into her Ancient Chimoretis soul form, flaring out her wings as she crouches low over her fallen companions. The blaze of the dark fire races over her fur, tingling and she hisses at the sensation.

Looking up slowly, she sees his utter shock.

“My _Firestorm!_ You should be dead!” She roars at him, and he scrambles backwards.

‡_Oopsss,_‡ She hisses with her snake head. The dark fire coats the walls, still burning. His face contorts, and he turns to face the giant stone head.

≠ ‡_SSSPEAK TO ME, SSSALAZAR SSSLYTHERIN, GREATESSST OF THE HOGWARTSSS FOUR!_‡ ≠ Ouroboros roars. The statue’s mouth opens, Hermione hears something slithering out. The Basilisk has come. Rearing up, a deep warmth shoots up her dragon head’s throat.

Her maw opens, and a column of twisting, writhing blue fire whips out at Ouroboros. His screams sound high and shrill, and he’s pinned down to the floor, howling bloody murder. But he’s not being destroyed, the bits and pieces of him struggling to reform his body. And yet his Horcrux-diary in his hands won’t burn. The Basilisk slithers out, hissing madly.

It’s a lot bigger than Hermione originally thought.

‡_Great Basssilisssk, I impl—_‡ Her snake head hiss is cut off when the Basilisk launches itself at her. Hermione rears up, turning her dragon’s flame at the Basilisk. It starts screaming, eyes closed as it struggles to get away. Ouroboros’s screams turn to high pitched laughter, as his body forms whole again.

“You cannot face the Queen and me both! Chose, false Heir!” Ouroboros roars. She rears up on her hind legs, wings flaring wide as she greedily swallows the dark fire into her. It burns her from the inside out, and Ouroboros pauses at her action. The fire in her stomach churns with the dark fire, aided by Luna’s magic, and bellows of white flames pour out from all four of her mouths.

Instantly she starts to tear, the immense heat of the cursed fire scorching her mouths and tongues, smoke pouring from her nostrils. The Basilisk Queen screams as the white fire consumes it, drowning Ouroboros’s horrified sounds. Hermione tries to cut off the flames, choking as it refuses to quench.

Spinning, she douses the Chamber in white, Ouroboros scrambling to flee. Squeezing all her eyes shut, her snake head whips down and bites her back. The sharp pain of her own venom penetrating her is enough for her to taper the flow of her magic. She pushes her companions—her _pack_—together under her as she hunkers over them, wings cupping round herself.

Her snake head unhinges, and curls up tightly against her underbelly. Her dragon head cracks open an eye as the cursed fire builds, forming the shape of a Basilisk. It finds a trembling Ouroboros, his skin black from the ash. Between them, is the Horcrux-diary, and pure terror fills Ouroboros’s face.

With a vindictive howl, the cursed fire descends on the Horcux-diary. Hermione slams her dragon eye shut as molten heat seeps into her body, hearing the sounds of the Alpha’s dying screams.

* * *

Numbness is all she can perceive. Then the distinct lack of warmth. She feels so compressed, that she can’t move. It’s as if a mold has formed around her. She can’t even open her eyes. A distant soft melody starts to fill the silence, and slowly, her cage starts to bend. Hermione shudders, as the beating in her chest beginning to pump again.

Soft, comforting heat shines on her lion head’s face, so different from the burning cold heat from before. The heat travels through her body, and then settles down on her back. Warm drops of liquid fall against her sensitive, naked skin, and wonderful relief flows through her body. A sigh she didn’t know she was holding exhales, and she cracks open all her eyes.

Her snake head sees Fawkes sitting on her haunches, tilting his head at her. In front of her, Err’sh caresses her goat head, trilling, as Eros curls around her dragon head’s horns.

*You fought bravely, Ravager of Souls,* Fawkes croons gently.

*Come now, Chick, let your pack breathe.* Fawkes trills musically, flapping up to where Err’sh is. Hermione remembers she has limbs. She struggles to stand, her legs shaking and wobbling so much she has to pause to catch her breath. Flopping to the side, she lies on the ash covered floor, breathing deeply. The nine others who were pushed on top of each other now start to stir.

Hermione groans, morphing back to roll flat on her back. The entire Chamber is blackened, except for the irregular oval where Hermione was. She looks down at her body, seeing charred rags adorning her. Underneath her skin lies pristine with not a peck of burns.

*Thank you,* Hermione croaks to Fawkes, and he bows his head. Eros curls on top of her chest, and Err’sh settles in around her head. Harry is the first to wake, and he gasps when he sees everyone. Then Hermione.

“Hermione!” He yells, crawling over to her. She flops her head towards him, a weak grin on her face.

“Harry,”

“I’m so sorry—he got into my head—I couldn’t keep him out—I’m so sorry!” He sobs, and the others begin to fully wake.

“What’s done is done,” Hermione sighs, sleepiness creeping up on her.

“Hermione? Hermione? Wake up! Please don’t die!” Harry’s holding her head, tears dripping down his face. By the gasps, the rest of her friends are awake.

“ALPHA!” Astoria shrieks, scampering over to her side.

“No, no, no,” The young Alpha’s eyes are wide, and she glances around the charred chamber.

“Where is that bastard? I’m going to kill him!” Astoria howls, her hands clenching. Daphne pushes Harry away into Ron’s path, grabbing Hermione in a fierce hug.

“HARRY!” The Beta yells in jubilation, tackling him to the ground. Draco, Luna, Beta Tracey, Ginny, and Neville gather around her.

“Hey, isn’t that Dumbledore’s bird?” Neville looks over at Fawkes. The Phoenix does a bird equivalent of an eye roll.

*Err’sh, over there is the body of the Man-Chick,* Fawkes gestures with his graceful head. Err’sh grumbles, but half flaps half hops over.

“Merlin! He’ss still alive?!” Draco exclaims, only to be scoffed by Beta Tracey. Neville and Luna help Err’sh drag the unconscious Rat towards them.

“How do we get out now?” Ginny asks in a small voice.

*Chick, tell them I shall fly us out.* Fawkes trills, flaring his wings.

* * *

Fawkes ends up carrying them two at a time up the sewer pipe. Hermione and the Rat going last. When she arrives back in Myrtle’s bathroom, the exhaustion seems to hit everyone. Fawkes rubs his head against her leg, then carries the Rat presumably to the Hospital Wing.

‡_Clossse_.‡ Hermione hisses, and the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets seals shut. Myrtle pops her head through her stall door, put out that Hermione isn’t dead.

“We’re all alive,” Draco mumbles to himself, leaning against the tiled wall. Daphne and Beta Tracey help Hermione sit up, and Astoria lies her head on her sister’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry guys,” Harry hiccups, fresh tears running down his face. Neville pats his shoulder.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ginny consoles. There’s a beat of silence.

“Okay, I’m just going to say what we’re all thinking—what happened to the Heir?” Beta Tracy asks, rubbing her eyes. They turn to Hermione, but Luna beats her to it.

“Ouroboros is infinity, but he is not whole. He is dead. He has more life to him.” Luna says dreamily, her voice exhausted. There’s a beat of silence.

“I have no bloody idea what you just said.” Ron states. Hermione closes her eyes, realizing Luna’s implication. Ouroboros made more Horcuxes.

“The Heir and Basilisk are no more.” She sighs, and there’s an air of relief.

“I wish I could drink to that.” Ginny groans, and Draco snorts.

“My lord father letss me have Butterbeer,” He pauses. “I ought to take on Aunt Bella’ss invitation.” He finishes randomly.

“What?” Daphne tilts her head at him. Draco looks down.

“Sshe doessn’t care who I bring over ass long ass they resspect her Manor, unlike my lord father.” He looks up.

“And I’d like to invite you all to vissit me over the summer.” There’s a shocked silence, and then Harry grins.

“I’d like that too, Draco.” Amongst the settling talk of summer plans, Hermione slips away into blissful dark.

* * *

She wakes up in the Hospital Wing, next to Harold’s bed. Hermione spots the other nine, she realizes when she hears the voices. They are the sounds of the Potter family rejoicing over their reunion. Hermione sits up, breathing in and out carefully. Lily sighs, then draws herself up tall, and Harry shrinks from her gaze. James, Sirius, and Remus wince.

“Harry James Potter! What were you _thinking_ writing in a suspicious magical book?!” She hisses, and Harry flinches.

“I didn’t know! It was in my stack of books Dad gave me, I thought it was a prank book!” Harry wails, and Lily whirls on James. The Alpha raises his hands, eyes wide behind his glasses as he shakes his head.

“Then where did it come from and who would target my son?!” Lily growls. Dumbledore appears behind her.

“I believe the children have some of the answers, but first, might I require your assistance Miss Mendonica?” He walks over to her, the Sorting Hat in his hand. She swings herself out of bed, surprised that she doesn’t feel any dizziness when she stands. He holds out the Hat to her, and she takes it.

The Hat tightens, and it’s weight increases spontaneously. There’s something shiny lodged inside it. Hermione reaches in, gasping as she stumbles backwards with a giant, two-sided broadsword in her hands.

Everyone except Dumbledore gasp as well.

“Bloody hell!” Ron breathes. Harry stares at the sword. She looks up at Dumbledore, seeing his eyes twinkling.

“Ah,” Is all he says, and Hermione looks at the hilt. Engraved on the two bars separating the grip and the blade, is the name, ‘Godric Gryffindor’. The very same sword from Hogwarts legends, that only a true Gryffindor can wield it.

“I think, questions may wait until later, right now, I do feel like this calls for a good feast, the petrified students ought to be waking up from the Mandrake juice,” Dumbledore says jovially. Hermione looks over at Harold’s bed, excitement blooming inside her. She sheathes the sword back into the Hat, handing it back to Dumbledore.

“I think, one hundred points to each of you, and a Special Award to the School given will do nicely.” Dumbledore says brightly, popping a candy in his mouth. Hermione blinks, but smiles neutrally. Sirius’ jaw drops.

“Well pop pop! Off to the feast,” Dumbledore herds all of them out, ignoring Madam Pomfrey’s stammering.

* * *

Walking with her friends, they arrive in the Great Hall, seeing already much of the school there in their pajamas. Stares and whispers start up at them. Sitting at her table, the rest of the Slytherins immediately bombard her with questions, and she lets the others answer for her.

When the petrified victims enter the Great Hall, their arrival heralds a great cheer, Harold running over to crush Hermione in a hug. She returns it, not hearing Astoria’s small squeak.

“Good to see you again, Bluejay,” She says softly. He smiles brightly at her.

“You too Lurch,” She lets him go, and he skips over to his table. All five other victims come to Hermione, apologizing profusely for believing she was the Heir—or in Mrs. Norris’ case she rubs up against Hermione’s leg, purring.

··I have to go now, I have to see mmmy Fammmiliarrr and Mmmate,·· She meows, leaping away, Err’sh waiting for her in the hallway. End of year announcements are made, detailing the Rat’s departure to St. Mungos, Lord Malfoy’s sacking from being with the School Board—Draco looks glum at that—and Hagrid’s return from Azkaban.

When Dumbledore declares the canceled exams, Hermione’s annoyed huff goes unnoticed in the roaring cheers.

* * *

The combined points of Hermione, Daphne, Beta Tracey, Astoria, and Draco skyrocket Slytherin House past Ravenclaw into first place for the House Cup. Their celebration lasts a whole day, and a very tipsy Draco ends up giving her a very early Yule gift before swaying off. It’s a broom attachment, the one she’d looked at before term even started.

“Are you going to give him a gift back?” Daphne asks tightly, leaning over the arm of her chair. Hermione shrugs.

“During Yule, yes,” She drawls, and the Beta hums. Suddenly a gaggle of First year girls swarm around her, their questions piling over one another. Hermione raises an eyebrow, about to open her mouth, but Daphne settles on the arm of the chair, laying an arm across Hermione’s shoulders. The Beta’s glare scares the girls off, and Hermione looks up at Daphne, smirking.

“_Aw_, is someone jealous for my attention?” She drawls, teasing her Beta. If she hadn’t been staring intently, Hermione would of missed the hint of pink dusting pale cheeks bones.

“Of course not—”

“MIO!” Astoria leaps into Hermione’s lap, cutting off Daphne.

“Promise you’ll come visit us!”

“I promise,” Hermione chuckles, ruffling Astoria’s hair.

“With the rest of the pack?”

Hermione pauses. She has a _pack_ now.

“Of course ma Louve. [my Wolf.]”

— . —

_Obliviate!_ = Memory Charm

_Protego_ = Shield Charm

_Imperio._ = Unforgivable Imperius Curse

_Lumos_ = Wand-Lighting Spell

_Protego_ _Totalum_ = Total Shield Charm

_Stupefy_ = Stunning Spell

_Reducto_ = Reductor Curse

_Bombarda!_ = Explosion Charm

_Firestorm!_ = Firewall Dark Charm


	7. Summer Of Surprise Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets all sorts of people, some unsavory!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! Lil Mandarin lesson!
> 
> Since family is highly important to Chinese culture (and a lot others too but we're focusing on China right now), when someone is addressed, their last name is spoken first then their first name. Like how the Japanese.
> 
> So, for the character 太阳信徒 (pinyin: Tàiyángxìntú aka Sun Believer), his last name is Tàiyáng, and first name is Xìntú.  
So people would address him as Mr. Tàiyáng.

Stepping off the Hogwarts Express, Hermione’s pack with her, she spots a strange sight. Eto—in all her masked glory—standing with a Muggle pair. Harold’s ears grow red, and he ducks his head when the two Muggles spot him. But beside them, is a Chinese Alpha in a blue suit, his long black hair in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. The Muggle pair stiffly walk forwards, enveloping Harold in a loose hug.

“Hey Dad, Jared,” Harold mutters, and Draco snickers at his embarrassment, wincing when Beta Tracey elbows him. The pack stay close to their fellow member, watching with amusement as the Beta is awkwardly held in his father’s embrace.

“You didn’t die, did you?” Mr. Hawking asks coldly, and Harold ducks his head. Hermione frowns.

“Terribly sorry, Mr. Hawking, Harold was sick for a bit, nothing a little magic couldn’t handle,” Hermione replies smoothly, the Muggle looking at her. The pack widen a little around Harold’s family defensively.

“You must be the Mendonica girl,” Mr. Hawking says, nodding stiffly to her. Jared, Harold’s older brother, scowls at them with beady eyes. Neville narrows his eyes, giving off warning pheromones to the pack. Harry looks Mr. Hawking up and down.

“We’ve heard so much about you, it’s . . . Pleasant that Harold and you are friends,” Mr. Hawking says flatly, and Hermione nods. Jared sneers at Harold.

“Yez, it iz,” Eto says, entering the conversation. Hermione’s pack shift awkwardly when they see Eto. Daphne doesn’t look or smell perturbed, but her death grip onto Hermione’s sleeve says otherwise.

“Eto, this is my pack—” She sees the Slytherin’s shock at her announcement. “—and these are the Hawking’s,” Hermione introduces. Eto nods, turning to face the Muggles.

“Father what’s wrong with it’s face?!” Jared shrieks, jerking away from Eto. The Veela Alfā smiles toothily at the Epsilon boy, Harold hiding his laugh behind his hand. Mr. Hawking steps in front of Jared, ignoring Harold.

“Is the mask inspired from Phantom of the Opera?” Mr. Hawking says, his tone forcefully light. Harold’s brother shoots him a strange look, but Eto smirks.

“What’s Phantom of the Opera?” Ginny whispers to Harry.

“Madame Mendonica, perhaps we should continue this conversation in a more personal place,” The Chinese Alpha says, a slight accent tinging his words.

“Of courze, Mr. Hawking’s, a pleasure meeting you, Hermione, you may see your pack later this summer.” Eto says, dismissing the Muggles. Mr. Hawking scowls, and he whirls on his heel, his hand on Jared’s shoulder. Harold scrambles to catch up. Hermione frowns at their backs, and the rest of the pack feel the same.

“Don’t worry, I can check on him,” Harry says, and she nods.

“The Nargles will protect Lord Hawking,” Luna says dreamily. Hermione gives a quick hug to her pack, then she takes Eto’s arm, and they Side-Apparating away.

* * *

Reappearing in the Pole Wing, the Chinese Alpha starts to smell slightly nervous. Eros peeks his head out from under her robes, gagging.

‡_I hate that Wizzzarding travel!_‡ He hisses fiercely. Likewise, Err’sh in his cage shudders. Eto raises her eyebrow at the Black Mamba, and the Chinese Alpha’s eyes widen.

“Hermione, thiz iz Mr. Tàiyángxìntú,” Eto says. Hermione bows at the waist at the Alpha, he echoing her, his bow even lower.

“My Lady, it is an honor to meet you,” He says formally, his Chinese accent thick around his words.

“The honor is mine, Mr. Tàiyáng,” Hermione responds.

“Now that introductionz are azide, let uz zee to the matter of your vizit,” Eto says, walking away from them.

“As you wish, Madame Mendonica.” Mr. Tàiyáng says, following Eto. Hermione hears a pop, smiling down at Cobra. He gives one back, releasing Err’sh and taking her things to unpack. Err’sh flaps to her shoulders, still disgruntled. She turns, jogging a bit to catch up to the two adults.

*I wonder what your Mother is planning,* Err’sh trills in her ear.

‡_A gift for Sssueensss-Ssspeaker-King’s [Queen-Speaker-King’s] assscccensssion?_‡ Eros hisses. Hermione doesn’t know, but as she nears the furthest part of the Pole Wing, she smells something new. Cautiously slowing to a walk, she scents the air again, the Mendonica Palace seemingly whispering into her ear.

Veela blood.

Eros flicks his tongue, tasting it. She turns the corner, eyes widening at the sight. Three Veela woman kneel on the marble floor, blood seeping from numerous cuts and lacerations all over their bodies. Their backs suffered the most, deep whip slashes gouged into their flesh.

One of them can barely hold herself upright, her twin supporting her. All three look like as if they’re struggling with themselves, jerking, their muscles rolling under their skin. Hermione catches Eto’s eye.

»You are correct Petite Présage, [Little Omen,] they were subjugated to the _Le Phoque_. [_The Seal_]« Eto says in Velian. Mr. Tàiyáng grimaces, his eyes never leaving the Veela women. They all have bright strawberry-blond hair, and dark-blue eyes. The Veela’s eyes flicker over to Hermione, scrutinizing her. Eros hisses from under her shirt, his head coming out to wrap around her neck.

The oldest looking Veela bares her teeth at the Black Mamba.

“I bring a neutral party; and now I give you two truthz. Vazzalage, or death?” Eto drawls. Hermione tilting her head at the ultimatum.

‡_Why were they punissshed?_‡ Eros hisses softly in her ear.

‡_I don’t know. Mossst likely crimesss againssst the Mendonica Houssse or breaking Veela law,_‡ Hermione hisses back. The oldest Veela straightens, narrowing her eyes at Eto. Hermione growls at the disrespect, the Veela’s eyes flicking over to her once.

“Vazzalage,” She grits out, not looking pleased at her word. Eto smirks.

“Of courze,” She turns to Mr. Tàiyáng, switching to Mandarin.

“**中立派，你是我们冲突的局外人，你能见证这种关系吗？**[Neutral party, have you bared witness to this bonding as you are an outsider to our conflict?]” She asks. It sounds like a ritual phrase, but Hermione doesn’t know what the bonding entails.

“**我做的事。我将承认并承认两党之间的联系。**[I do. I will recognize and acknowledge the bond between both opposing parties.]” He replies, taking out his wand, holding it over his heart, the tip aimed at the ceiling. Eto beckons Hermione forwards. Letting Eto guide her, she maneuvers Err’sh onto Eto’s waiting arm, Eros reluctantly slithering off her to onto the floor.

“Do you, Alpha Monizel Delacour, Beta Aziar Delacour, and Alpha Tarwin Delacour accept Alfā Hermione Eto Mendonica az your Liege-Lady?” Eto intones in French. So this is what Eto was planning, but why did she and Luna not have to perform this? It probably has to deal with the fact that the Lovegood House is already a Vassal House whereas the Delacour House is most certainly not.

“I azzept.” Two voices say, the third nodding.

“Do you, Alfā Hermione Eto Mendonica, accept Alpha Monizel Delacour, Beta Aziar Delacour, and Alpha Tarwin Delacour az your Bounded-Vazzalz?” Eto asks. Hermione pauses, and she sees a spark of something in Monisel’s eyes.

“I accept.” She says, and suddenly she’s hit with chaotic magic against hers, the three Veela’s magic so tightly woven amongst themselves. She clenches her eyes shut, focusing on her magic. This is nothing like the gentle ebb and flow of her and Luna’s bonding, but harsh and pained. Hermione can feel, in that instant, their pain of _**Le Phoque’s**_ [_The Seal’s_] cruel magic.

Their inner Veela’s trapped in their minds, under their skin, unable to shift.

She lets her magic surge outwards, enveloping the Veela’s, both magics battling for dominance. Hermione reaches into the tangled mess of magic, forcing herself to relax as their magic violently probes hers out of instinct. She hears a dull thud. Adding her Thrall, she sends it racing down into their magic, smoothing over the bent and jagged edges.

Sending comforting vibrations. Their magic softens, and that’s when Hermione sees Asair and Tarwin’s Twin-Bond. Annie and Claire have one, but not to the powerful extent that these twins do. Their Twin-Bond is so strong, their magic so combined, that it’s like they share one magic but stored in two bodies.

When she probes it curiously, the bond drums anxiously, and she pulls back. But suddenly a branch of that magic shoots out wrapping around hers tightly. Hissing, Hermione keeps herself still, as the other woman’s magic wraps itself around her. All of their magic start to unravel into millions of thread-like strands.

Hermione breathes deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth as the strands mesh together, forming a new bond, and magic flows easily between all four of them. Opening her eyes, she sees Tarwin panting on the floor, Asair slumped over her, and Monisel is struggling herself to stay awake. All their wounds have healed, and their inner Veela’s content.

She’s panting. Eto wraps an arm around her, keeping Hermione upright.

“**Un, escorter Mr. Tàiyáng à son rendez-vous. **[One, escort Mr. Tàiyáng to his rendezvous.]” Eto orders, her House-Elf obeying. Hermione snuggles closer into Eto’s motherly embrace.

»You did well, Petite Présage, [Little Omen,]« Eto croons, and she slips into a deep sleep.

* * *

The Palace doesn’t take kindly to having Delacour’s under it’s roof. It feels odd to Hermione that it could hate the three Veela with such a passion. The Palace takes it upon itself to mess with the Delacour’s; moving furniture in their paths, locking doors, making their things disappear. It’s as if the Mendonica Palace is acting out against a past crime.

The only time when the Palace doesn’t act is when the three are with Eto or Hermione, and even then it does little things. She lays her hand on the wall, feeling the Palace shudder in response. It’s like a petulant child throwing a fit when the attention is not solely on it. The Veela themselves are less than amused.

Monisel is the most aggressive, being the oldest and Alpha of the siblings at twenty. Asair is nineteen, and the slightly older Beta twin. She only reacts to the Palace when it takes her things and Hermione learns that she has a very foul mouth. However Tarwin seems unaffected, merely annoyed. Hermione’s never heard the Alpha speak, and her siblings talk as if they don’t expect her to answer verbally.

None of them have spoken why they were in the Mendoncia Palace to begin with, nor why they came all bloody. Unlike with Luna’s bond, she can always feel a soft tug in their direction, and a hint of their moods. If she focuses, she can pinpoint their exact location and emotion. They in turn can always find her.

Lying on her bed, Hermione picks up a copy of the _Daily Prophet_, scanning it. One article catches her eye

≠ **MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE**

Arthur Weasley, Head of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleons Draw.

A delighted Mr. Weasley told Daily Prophet, “We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank.”

The Weasley family will be spending the two months in Egypt, returning in August to prepare for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend. ≠

A knock sounds on her door, and she waves her hand, and it opens to reveal Juin. She sits up, setting the paper aside. Eros opens one eye from his claimed pillow, staring at the Veela. Err’sh is off harassing the Delacour’s. Hermione remembers the Howler.

“**What brings you by today?**” She asks. Juin rolls her eyes, marching over and plopping herself gracefully next to Hermione. She eyes the Skull Hookah resting on the bedside table, then turns to Hermione.

“**I’m not mad anymore, well, not that much, Elise made sure of that,**” Juin says dismissively. Not a real apology, but Hermione will take it.

“**Alright then, so what do you want?**” She asks. The Veela Alpha purses her lips.

“**Mother hasn’t . . . Pressured you into doing anything, has she?**” Juin asks vaguely. Hermione tilts her at her adoptive older sister.

“**No? Are you concerned about the Delacour’s?**” Juin just shakes her head.

“**Mother is known for her ruthlessness and willingness to sacrifice anything to get what she wants. It’s what makes her such a powerful leader.**” They’re silent for a minute.

“**Are you . . . Worried that she might sacrifice something of . . . Yours?**” Hermione asks tentatively. Juin tilts her head towards Hermione, her eyes glowing a fierce purple-green.

»Exactly,« Juin switches to Velian, and Hermione understands the seriousness of the conversation.

»It is a possible chance, she will make you do it, to prove yourself worthy as a new Heiress.« Juin whispers, and Hermione goes stock still.

»Of course she already uses you to threaten me to act accordingly,« Juin grunts. It dawns on her that the Alpha may have just come to her to vent to someone still not fully aware of the family dynamics.

»How so?« Hermione demands. Juin rolls her eyes at her.

»You are next in line, dimwit. Souci and her own are disowned—John is dead—and it skips Annie and Claire because their infighting would break their Twin-Bond. So that just leaves you.« Juin pokes Hermione hard with a sharp nail on the shoulder.

Hissing, Hermione realizes something.

»Who’s John?«

Juin tenses, and leaves with her usual scowl on her face.

* * *

Hermione jerks awake when Eros rises quickly, hissing. Looking up, she sees Eto, her one blue eye burning bright. Eros relaxes, and Err’sh wakes up, glaring at the Veela Alfā for waking him up. The full moon light shines through her open window, and she blinks, yawning.

Hermione shakes the rest of herself awake, pushes a wary Eros off her, and when she takes the offered arm, Eto Side-Apparates them. Hermione opens her eyes, noticing they are in the forest around the Palace-Manor. Eto looks up to the full moon, she checking her watch on her wrist. A low growl rumbles out, and Hermione jerks her head up.

Yellow eyes blink from the darkness, but she can smell it. A snarl rips past her teeth, one that strangles in her throat when Eto lays a hand on her shoulder. It’s the same Werewolf that turned an innocent boy. The huge wolf-man emerges, two-and-a-half meters of heavy muscle rippling.


	8. Summer In The Winds Of Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets to meet more interesting people!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty folks, I recently edited ch 5 in HMatWK+1S, and since I have a Beta, I will be editing past chapters here and there.
> 
> Also, I love all yall's comments!

Eto stares at it, bored, as it’s eyes slowly swivel between them. There’s a silence between the unlikely trio. The Werewolf, done with staring at them, looks up to the moon, then sits down on his haunches, still taler than them.

He huffs, looking behind him. Then, another Werewolf emerges, she is only two meters tall. Like the male, she’s built, but on the leaner side, her body sleek and a sandy-brown glossy fur. Her amber-yellow eyes glow in the darkness. She stares down at Hermione with an unimpressed aura about her.

»Go have a run with her Hermione,« Eto murmurs in Velian, and she eyes the female Werewolf. Eto merely turns to the male, and walks away, he follows her. The female and Hermione have a stare off, neither relenting.

#Howl with me,# She growls, and Hermione jerks her head up, not speaking. The Werewolf tilts her head, letting out a chilling howl, and something in Hermione responds. Her vocals morph, and she throws back her head, her howl harmonizing with the Werewolf’s deeper one.

They both stop at the same time, her eyes morphing into a Werewolf’s. Her magic touches the other’s mind, and the female instinctively crouches.

#You howl well, for a Veela,# The Werewolf spits out, and Hermione growls at her tone. It merely makes her chuckle.

#I am Delta-Alpha Tarow Greyback, blood-yearling of Alfā of all Werewolves Fenfir Greyback and Epsilon-Omega Lissa Clearwind of Greyback, half-sister of Omega Leilaki Clearwind of Greyback, and step-yearling of Beta Mark Clearwind of Greyback.# Tarow boasts, her stance proud as she lists her heritage. It must be a Werewolf custom. Hermione wonders how Tarow thought of being exposed to magic, how it must of felt.

#I am Alpha Hermione Mendonica, daughter of Alfā Etoilnaiphas Rotanilmy Mendonica, sister of Alpha’s Souci, and Juin.# Hermione barks, and Tarow tilts her head at her, sniffing.

#At least you speak Grawl nicely,# Tarow humphs, turning to trot away on all fours.

#Hurry up Veela-Pup!# Tarow snarls, and Hermione takes a step forwards, letting her instinct guide her morphing. She blinks, looking down at her paws, feeling her new body settle around her. Getting into the rhythm of walking with four limbs, Hermione trots after Tarow, slowing when she sees the Werewolf waiting for her. An eye ridge rises.

#You’re a . . . Wolf Animagus?# She sniffs, and Hermione smirks, her tongue lolling.

#In a way.# She woofs. They start trotting next to each other, getting a feel for each other’s gait. Tarow eyes her again. In Hermione’s wolf form, she’s as big as the Werewolf, but her fur is dark-brown.

#Alright, out with it, you’re a Direwolf Animagus aren’t you?# Tarow growls, and Hermione barks out a laugh.

#Nope,# Her answer angers Tarow, who shoves her in the shoulder. Unruffled, Hermione turns to see Tarow step into a full beam of moonlight. Her eyes light up.

#Let’s run!# she howls, taking off at a sprinting lope. Hermione races after the Werewolf, elation pulsating through her.

* * *

Hermione slowly becomes aware of something soft and smooth pressing into her face. Regardless, it’s warm, and she snuggles further into it. A throaty chuckle sounds above her head, and she blinks. Hermione leaps up, throwing herself backwards as she lands on her paws, tail erect and teeth bared.

But she’s only greeted by laughter, and her hackles lower when her memories of romping around in the forest with Tarow come back. Then she blinks again. Tarow is in her birthday suit. The girl—no, woman—has beautiful light brown skin, a round face, and a mass of curly brown hair. Her eyes are hard though, dark brown orbs that pull you in.

“Well aren’t you going to shift back?” Tarow asks, standing and stretching. Hermione politely keeps her eyes on Tarow’s face, morphing back. Standing now, she realizes that Tarow’s rather short, only one-hundred-fifty-seven-point-forty-eight centimeters. But Hermione doesn’t doubt the strength in those built arms.

Tarow looks her up and down, her gaze heated with something. She’s still dressed in her nightwear; a tank top with loose boy shorts.

“I realized something last night,” Tarow says offhandedly, sashaying towards Hermione.

“What is it?” She asks, leaning against a tree. She learned very quickly last night during their run that Tarow liked to play games.

“That you’re not an Alpha,” Tarow singsongs, standing right in front of her. Hermione tilts her head down, growing wary at the Werewolf’s proximity. She still doesn’t like who her father is.

“Is that so?” She doesn’t move, Hermione won’t in this wolf power-play.

“Hmm-hmm,” Tarow purrs, leaning in, her head canting up to look Hermione in the eyes. She wonders if Tarow knows how old she is. Probably not.

“You’re an Alfā,” The Alpha whispers, tilting her head a hairs breath closer. Hermione raises an eyebrow. Her mind casts back to when Luna called her an Alfā.

“And if I am?” She murmurs, getting more uneasy the longer Tarow doesn’t move. Tarow smirks knowingly at her.

“Then I would follow and obey such a strong Alfā,” Tarow says silkily, and she closes the distance between them. Their lips barely touch before Tarows yanked back with a startled yelp. Hermione blinks at the sudden space around her, hearing the barks and snarls from the Alpha. Eto stands over the fallen Werewolf, one pointed heel pressing deeply in the hollow between Tarow’s clavicles.

A tall naked Fenrir leans against a tree nearby, mirth on his face. Hermione struggles to repress the growl growing in her throat for Eto’s sake. She doesn’t know why the Veela Alfā would associate with such a being, but she trusts Eto’s judgement.

#You will not touch my pup, Alpha Tarow Greyback.# Eto growls in Grawl, shocking Tarow still. Fenrir barks out a gruff laughter.

#Come pup, we have work to do,# He howls, shifting again as he leaps away. Eto releases the Werewolf, and she glowers at Eto, her eyes flicking over to Hermione once before she follows her father. Leaving Hermione and Eto alone. The Veela Alfā turns to her, her eye completely white.

»Take my hand, Petite Présage, [Little Omen,] you training begins now.« Eto orders, and Hermione obeys.

* * *

Her training; as Eto stated; is the Veela Art of the Wind Whisperers. The Art is passed down the generations, gradually each Cadre, each Clan, and each Flock developing variations of the same styles. No one knows the origin of the Art, but it’s speculated to be somewhere in Russia, hence why the names of the different subcategories are still in Russian.

Every Veela must learn how to listen to the whispers of the wind so they may fly swiftly _with_ the winds, and not against them. There’re three categories a Veela can choose to train for; Specialists, Naturalists, or Militarists. Then there’re the Dances of the Wind Whispers, for which Veela are renowned for.

Fifteen in all, each honoring the fifteen Great Elemental Beings. The first one Hermione shall learn is **_Pervyy Shag El’fov_**. [_First Step of Elves._] By learning the moves, a Veela also learns important skills for her category. Hermione already knows what she wants to be.

Just like Eto, she wants to train as a Specialist to become a **_Okhotnik na Tyuleney_**, [_Sealer_] specializing in **_Le Phoque_**. [_The Seal_.] The **_Uplotniteli_** [_Sealers_] are the only ones that need to train in one Naturalist in the case they lose control of **_Le Phoque_**. [_The Seal_.] Eto highly recommends being a **Pevets** [_Singer_]; Veela who train to control their Cursed Fire.

»There are so very few of us left to teach the Art, for it is one of the most difficult to master.« Eto had purred satisfactorily at Hermione’s choice. With her days filled with rigorous memorization of precise movements, knowledge of the moves themselves, it leaves her mentally and physically exhausted.

But on every other night, she takes the time to sneak out to the forest to see Tarow. They run during the night, play-fighting or just chasing each other around. During those nights, they learn from each other, exchanging stories and pieces of their family. When they reveal their ages, Tarow—whose eighteen—is shocked and horrified with herself when she’s told that Hermione is only twelve.

This night, they rest by a small, ice-cold pond, their forepaws dangling above the water. Both in their wolf forms, they sit comfortably next to each other.

#Veelas can’t change their presentation, right?# Tarow grunts, and Hermione nods. The Alpha rumbles deep in her chest, huffing mockingly.

#That’s why we Werewolves are better! You’re born with a natural Status, sure, but you fight to rise your Status!# She howls.

#Really, but weren’t you born as a Delta?# Hermione asks. Tarow flicks her with her tail.

#Yes. It does takes being Gifted for wolves to realize their Status.#

#Did you fight for yours?# Hermione barks, curious. Tarow grins toothily, letting out a short howl.

#I did.# They lapse into silence for a bit, before Hermione asks the older Werewolf another question.

#Who are you going to challenge to become an Alfā? As far as you’ve told me the only one is your sire,# At this, Tarow pins back her ears, her expression nervous.

#Well, I can’t right now.# She growls softly. The air is tense around them, and Tarow leaps to her paws.

#Race you back to that spring!# She yips, pelting away, Hermione hot on her heels.

* * *

During a break of Hermione’s training, Juin once again decides to spend time with her alone. She even takes her on a little flight. They glide down to the Colligation, landing near the edge. Juin just seems content to walk in silence, so she doesn’t press why the Alpha is here.

At this time of day, open markets with awnings cover the streets, and occasionally a Veela will fly overhead. No one really cares what anyone wears, although almost all the clothes Hermione sees have slits in the backs ranging in different sizes. They stop at a corner, a flock of Veela children half-running, half-flying, pass by.

Behind them, an very old looking Veela glides high behind them, a bemused smile on her face. The flock almost topple over a fruit stand, the owner yelling after them. A mother and her daughter giggle at the sight, the daughter’s eyes catching Hermione’s. The girl smiles, waves, then follows her mother away.

“**Why don’t we live down here?**” _With all this life?_ Goes unsaid, Hermione asks, and Juin’s face tightens. They keep walking, ambling towards the center of the city.

“**Family complications. We did, until Eto moved us.**” They stop at a little park, sitting on a bench.

“**What complications?**”

“**Only Veela can live here,**” Juin snorts, glaring at a tree. Hermione’s mind whirls, and she starts to see a connection.

»And John wasn’t a true Veela?« She murmurs in Velian. Juin bares her teeth at the ground in a silent snarl.

»No. He wasn’t.«

»Was he your brother?« Hermione asks, keeping her body loose, accepting that Juin probably won’t answer. Hermione watches two Veela soar overhead, wings strong and large.

»He was.« Juin’s clipped answer startles her.

»May I ask—«

»_No_.« The Alpha interrupts, taking her arm and Disapparating them back to the Mendonica Palace. It seems like John Mendonica is a touchy subject.

* * *

Retreating to the safety of her room, the Palace locks her door behind her. Flopping on her bed, Err’sh and Eros accompany her. As she gazes out her window lethargically, a tendril of magic snakes its way over her face. Jolting up, her Familiars on edge, she stares at the Skull Hookah.

A thin wisp of yellow magic caresses her cheek, it’s trail leading back to the Skull’s mouth. Eros hisses warily, and Err’sh fluffs up all his feathers. The wisp slides down to her hands, weaving between her fingers. The magic is soft, alluring, like an neglected creature seeking comfort.

She shuffles forwards on her knees, and picks up the Skull Hookah.

‡_It doesss not sssmellsss right,_‡ Eros hisses, baring his fangs at it.

“But it’s Gellert’s, perhaps it’s connected to his bloodline,” Hermione murmurs, the magic guiding her hands as she grasps the tube.

_. . . Use me . . .Yes . . . Use me . . ._

The top of the skull starts to glow yellow as Hermione’s lips touch the mouthpiece. Her Familiars shift nervously around her.

_. . . Breath . . . Use me . . . Inhale . . ._

Blowing out gently, she inhales. Sharp, bitter cold something wafts into her mouth, traveling all the way down to her lungs and further. A slight buzzing numbness fills out Hermione’s entire body. It’s like drinking a cloud, her eyes rolling back as a shudder threatens to overwhelm her.

_. . . Use me . . . Cast . . . And see . . ._

Suddenly she feels the keening reminder she have to breath. Sitting up, Hermione blows out, intense warmth blooming in spirals in her blood and magic where the cloud leaves. But the exhale is much different from the inhale. She chokes out a cough, scrambling to her feet when the yellow smoke expands, and images begin to fill the room.

* * *

_“Tom, not now! We need to—” The mystery woman’s voice has an echo quality to it. Whatever the woman says is cut off by intensive kissing, Minister Riddle blocking her view. The angle is weird, as if a very small thing is looking up at them._

_“Shh, it’s _Our Lord _now,” Minister Riddle purrs, and begins to ravish the woman completely and very thoroughly. Hermione can only watch as her moans and calls turn to screams, unable to believe she’s openly staring. When they begin another round, Hermione turns her head, looking around at the images. It’s like being in a memory, except in full color, yellow magic floating lazy in places._

_When they finish, the woman slumps on the bed, most likely feeling very boneless. Minister Riddle is lying on his side._

_“You’ve got to stop doing this Tom, what did you even do with the body?”_

_“Vanishment.”_

_“Morgana, Tom, who was it?”_

_“Just some Muggle, Bella, nothing to worry your head about.”_


	9. Summer Of Too Many Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione sees for the first time, and she has mail!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side-note, don't do drugs. Even if they are magical heirlooms of your family's.
> 
> Also, this chapter is sort of a filler with some minor plot in it.

_“Tom, my job is to worry about your antics.” Bella snaps, and suddenly Hermione recognizes the woman. She didn’t realize that Bellatrix Black and Tom Riddle were having a work romance together. Of course, there had been rumors when Minister Riddle rose to power and appointed Bellatrix as his right hand, but both had equally shut them down. Hermione idly wonders what the skull actually does._

Bellatrix_ finally rolls off the bed, donning another black dress from the wardrobe. They must be at her place, in her bed. It wasn’t a secret that she hates her once-and-never-ex-fiancé Alpha Rodolphus Lestrange, and how the angry Alpha had stormed around Britain with a massive tantrum._

_“Like when I took the Half-Giant to Azkaban?” Minister Riddle smirks, and Bellatrix, now fully dressed, turns on him scowling. She’s a lot smaller than he is, but she doesn’t let that deter her._

_“More like why you won’t tell me what happened two weeks ago.” She growls, poking Minister Riddle in the chest. He frowns, his eyes flashing._

_“I felt_ it _happen, Bellatrix.” His words make the Alpha woman freeze. Her eyes widen, and she fingers her infamous crooked wand._

_“So,_ it’s _true,” She breaths. Hermione leans in, walking around Bellatrix and Minister Riddle. If she gets just close enough, she can barely smell what their scents are. Whatever the “it” they’re talking about, scares both of them._

_“No. It’s only self-fulfilling if only both parties believe.” He replies. Bellatrix snorts._

_“Good thing you didn’t act when you wanted, like I said,” She answers smugly, and Minster Riddle rolls his eyes. He stands to get dressed. Hermione has to admit, if the money, the power, and sheer darkness he emits wouldn’t attract a woman, his physique would seal the deal._

_“But he believes it, that’s what matters,” Bellatrix muses, but then her eyes narrow._

_“What of the Prospect, Tom?”_

_“Which one?” He answers coyly._

_“I’m not deaf Tom. Practically the whole Ministry is waiting for Hogwarts’ graduation.” Hermione tilts her head. Who are they talking about? Minister Riddle merely waves shakes his head._

_“He's_ _ protected, and she’ll soon make her choice.” Minister Riddle waves offhandedly. Bellatrix gets into Minister Riddle’s space, forcing him to look down at the short Alpha. Hermione stands next to them, watching them communicate with more than words._

_“Bella,” He murmurs, putting a hand on her cheek. Bellatrix doesn’t falter, not that Hermione can see._

_“Tom, we need_ more_, not the shit, Hufflepuff roses, and dandelions that_ he’s _trying to spread. If we don’t act now, she’ll, choose, her, own, side.” She hisses, and Minister Riddle looks down at her thoughtfully._

_“I am aware of all this Bellatrix, however, our timetable is quickly progressing. How goes the arrangements to start laying the groundwork in Scotland?” He says, and Bellatrix rolls her eyes._

_“Oh so you want to talk about Quidditch now? Fine, but this isn’t over Tom, not if I have any say in it.” Bellatrix waves her infamous crooked wand at him, and he bats it away._

_“Well its a good thing you do have a say, or I’d never get anything done.” Minister Riddle purrs, and Bellatrix scoffs. Extracting herself, she nods to the door._

_“I’ll be seeing you later,” She says stiffly. Minister Riddle puts his hand to his heart in mock hurt._

_“Why, Bella, it almost sounds like you’re grown fond of her, getting soft in age are we?” He chuckles as he leaves. Hermione’s perspective follows him in a swaying motion. Hermione opts to walk with him rather than stand and let the images stroll past her._

_Minister Riddle stops in the hallway, looking up at the sunset sky. The images rise to Minister Riddle’s waist, his hand rises just above her view. His eyes glowing red as he and the images disappear in a column of black smoke._

* * *

The yellow magic dissipates, leaving Hermione standing right where she was on her bed. She blinks to adjust her eyes to the nighttime lighting. Eros and Err’sh are still on her bed, their eyes fading from glowing yellow. They blink at the same time, and then look at her, all reeling from the vision.

Drowsily, Hermione slumps on her bed, the Skull Hookah emitting a faint, yellow, pulse.

* * *

She wakes to Err’sh whistling at her like an alarm. She groans, as she sits up, blinking as she sees Cobra next to her desk, a Snowy Owl perched on it.

*Hermione Cage-Breaker, you’ve got letters!* Err’sh whistles, and Eros hisses regretfully as Hermione pushes him off her and leaves the warmth of her bed. Sighing, she staggers to her bathroom, getting ready for the day. The Skull Hookah leaves a pounding headache like something she’d expect a hangover to feel like.

When she’s stable enough to walk straight, Hermione sits down at her desk. Stroking Hedwig’s face, she starts with Harry’s letter that the owl refused to leave in the Dead Drop.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Don’t know if you’ll get this, but I want you to know right now, DON’T GO AFTER BLACK, he’s a deranged Alpha, whose Black blood has finally made him go mad. I’m ok, and doing well, the Healers are saying I’m healing right on track, but no one will talk to me about Dad. It’s kind of lonely here, and this is the nineteenth draft of this letter I’ve written without tears staining it. Hope you’re doing better than I am._

_Harry_

_(His seal, a stag’s head rising from a potter bowl)_

Hermione knew that that Sirius Black was bad news, it only took a spark to set him off. Shuffling through her letters, she finds her _Daily Prophet_ prescription. Taking up the whole front page, a large picture of Black screaming in prison garb at his mug shot. Scowling, she reads the article.

≠ **BLACK STILL AT LARGE** ≠

Sirius Black, son of Lord and Lady, Alpha Orion and Omega Walburga Black, is still evading the Ministry. He and another prisoner having escaped from Azkaban for the first time in centuries since its construction, although the other prisoner was killed, Black managed to slip away. The Minister for Magic, Tom Riddle, gives a statement on the matter.

“Rest assured, we are doing all in our power to recapture Black, in the meanwhile I urge wizards and witches to remain calm.” Minister Riddle even informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

“If the Muggles are unawares, what’s to stop Black from murdering more in cold blood in the streets, possibly exposing the rest of us in his madness? We’d be left to scramble to fix his messes, and capture him, leaving too many witnesses to spread the word of magic.” The Minister replies to the accusations of telling the Muggle Prime Minister, who swore not to tell a word.

The Muggles only know that Black is a murderer, ≠ wielding a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), ≠ we all know of Black’s attack during Bastille Day on his old schoolmates and long time friends, Alpha Remus Lupin, and Lord Alpha James Potter, leaving the Lord Potter dying from his cursed wounds in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Mr. Lupin’s non-wand hand was torn off, during dueling with Black, as he valiantly tried to protect Lord Potter’s only Heir, Lord Alpha Harry Potter, Black’s own godson. Lady Potter was out of commission even before the duel began. The duel was pushed outside, where Black proceeded to murder the thirteen Muggles that were watching.

Lord Potter and Mr. Lupin weren’t the only casualties that night. Young Lord Potter was victim to a series of burns on his back during his and Mr. Lupin’s escape from a near kidnapping from Black’s clutches. This begs the question of how Mr. Lupin was so fireproof, leading to inquiries of if Mr. Lupin was in on the attack. Meanwhile also in St. Mungo’s, young Lord Potter is set to be make a full recovery. — Rita Skeeter

Hermione frowns, growling to herself when she thinks of Black. Putting the _Daily Prophet_ to the side, her respect for Remus has grown. He’s truly loyal to his Wizarding pack. Looking at Hedwig, Hermione writes out a condolence letter.

“**Take her back to the Dead Drop Cobra,**” Hermione yawns, handing the letter off, and the two of them Disapparate. Picking out Daphne’s letter, she begins to read.

_Dear ’Mio,_

_I don’t know if you can get the Daily Prophet wherever you are, but a big scandal has just happened. Anyway, Astoria has been moping around, wondering when you’re going to come over. I beg of you—which I don’t do often—come over to save me from my misery._

_On more worrying news, Father works in the Ministry, and has heard that someone’s trying to dig into your ancestry. Ever since the Chamber incident with Harry, the Potters were going to press charges against the Ministry, but now with them suspiciously out of commission, I suspect foul play._

_While they are not part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the attack has stirred up the Great Houses, and they have been waiting for a long time for a chance like this. I hope you’re safe, things here are getting tense. Hopefully this will all blow over, but I’m not positive about it._

_Your Beta and Court member,_

_Heiress Daphne Greengrass,_

_(Her seal, a Laurel crown with a sun in the middle)_

Hermione frowns, troubled. Opening another letter, she finds this one is co-written by Ron and and his little sister Ginny.

_Dear Hermione,_

_≠ It’s amazing here in Egypt. Bill’s taken us around all the tombs and you wouldn’t believe the curses those Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn’t let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who’d broken in and grown extra heads and stuff._

_I can’t believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it’s gone on this trip, but they’re going to buyme a new wand for next year ≠ since Ginny broke my old one._

_We’ll be back in August, is there any chance you could meet us in Diagon Alley?_

_Ron_

_≠ P.S. Percy’s Head Boy. He got the letter last week. ≠_

_P.P.S. Fred and George are sending you a gift from Egypt—I highly advise you open it with caution or not at all._

_Hey,_

_It’s really hot here in Egypt, but I love visiting Bill, he’s a Cursebreaker you know. Percy is Head Boy now, so watch out for him, he’s got it out for you for some over protective brotherly reason. Ron’s pissed about it, and you know how the twins reacted when Percy was a Prefect—imagine it a hundred times worse._

_Bill showed us some of the things he’s curse-broken, and I snagged one that I thought you’d like. I think he called it Tearful Joy or something. It was cursed to make it’s wearer incredibly happy and fearless all the time, and whenever they took off the ring, they’d be depressed. Hope you like it._

_Ginny_

_P.S. Ron was being a stupid git, and tried to hex a bee. He was going to fall over, so I tried to grab him, but he ended up falling, breaking his wand. That’s why it’s broken._

Attached to the letter, is a small package. Dipping out the contents, Hermione holds up a ring, a thick band of gold with a gleaming tiger-eye stone set in it. The stone itself sporting a large crack in the middle of it. A simple, silver chain hangs from it, and Hermione puts it on. The Tearful Joy clinks softly against the Madisntic’s Necklace.

Smiling, Hermione opens another letter.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I know Daphne owled you about the matter—but I highly advise when you come to Hogwarts to be careful of Black. My lord father said he’s always been a ticking bomb, it’s the Black blood in him. Of course I can’t really say much on that. My lady mother was a Black until lord father married her, and she’s fine._

_Anyway, is there a chance we could meet this summer again? I’ve convinced my lady mother to move in with Aunt Bella, and we’ll be making the move next year. I hope to see you soon._

_Best regards,_

_Heir Draco Malfoy,_

_(His seal, the Draco constellation)_

Looking at the last four letters, she picks another Weasley.

_For The One and Only Heir of Slytherin,_

_We, the Wonderful Weasley & Weasley, do present the first ever of it’s kind in hopes that the Lady Heir won’t sic a Basilisk upon us—a Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes Pocket Sneakofind! Ordinary Pocket Sneakoscopes light up and spin when untrustworthy someone is around, but ours, dear Heir, is much better! It lights up, it spins, but it also flashes colors to tell you more! Green for within touching distance, Blue for within three meters, White for someone who can see you but you can’t see them! We hope you can try this out for us, and then tell us how you liked it!_

_Your future hopeful business partners,_

_Lords Fred & George Weasley_

Hermione holds up the glass spinning top, spinning it experimentally. Immediately it starts flashing and whirling green. Eros looks affronted by it, hissing. She takes another letter.

_Greetings My Liege-Lady,_

_How was your day? You know earlier I thought I heard a Thestral cry, but it might of been the winds shaking the roof. I’ve told Daddy about you, and he wants to meet you. Have you seen the youngest Lord Weasley? He’s in Egypt, I really hope they get to meet a Sphinx, that would be quite nice. Daddy and I have been touring around the wilds of Ireland, we’re so close to finding a Queen nest of Whackaspurts._

_Don’t let the Nargles get to you too much. Did you know that Third years can go to Hogsmeade, but you need a parental slip, I have mine, you should get yours before a Pixie eats it._

_Yours Bounded-Vassal,_

_Heiress Luna Lovegood_

_(Her seal, the lunar eclipse)_


	10. Summer Of Fleur De Li's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione visits Paris with the Greengrass's!

Hermione smiles at Luna’s letter, it embodying everything what makes the Gamma endearing to her. Penning a quick letter to Eto about Hogsmeade, she picks the second to last letter.

_Hi Alpha!_

_It was so cool to see you at Hogwarts! By the way Rose and Taz are looking over my shoulder——[line looks like it was pushed]——that was Taziah’s fault! Did you know that I’m popular because of my Mum with my yearmates in Hufflepuff? It’s weird!_

_Roseanne’s a First year next year, she’s blushing r——[very sharp pushed line]——I’m also getting my first real broom! I’m going to try out for the Quidditch team, wish me luck! Do you think I’ll make it? What’s your opinion on what position should I be?_

_Can’t wait to see you next year!_

_Pufflings out,_

_Peter, Roseanne, and Taziah_

On the back of that letter is another attached.

_Dear Alpha,_

_Peter just finished his letter, and is looking for our family owl (he won’t find her because I have her). I’m going to be a First year, and Peter’s already nagging Mum and Dad to go to Diagon Alley to buy our things. I’m really jealous, he gets a new broom and to be on the team._

_He told me how you got on yours in your First year, how’d you do it? I really wish I could be in the same House as you, but since my whole family’s been in Hufflepuff, I can take that. Some of Peter’s friends came over, and they were telling us all these stories about the test to get into the school._

_I’m skeptical, did they really have to get past a Troll? They’re as stupid as a doornail anyway, but I’m a bit worried. What if I don’t get in? What did you do? Sorry to be asking all these questions, but Peter hardly told me anything!_

_Roseanne_

To be honest, Hermione had forgotten about the other Pufflings. Writing to Peter that yes he will make it and he should be a Chaser, then to Roseanne answering her questions, she picks up the last letter.

_Hey Lurch,_

_Thanks for getting ridof the Basilisk, my Dad would have been mortified if he had to deal with me for a whole school year at another school. I’m not really sure if this letter will get to you, since no one’s really told me how this Owl Post thing works from the Muggle side, but if you’re not Hermione, hey snooper person, fold the letter back up._

_Dad and Jared were kinda creeped out by your Mum, but I liked her mask. By the way, they’ve decided to never extend an invite if you and your family to come over and have a family outing. They said you folk were “too otherworldly and disturbing”. Anyway, this is just me saying I’ve still got your back._

_Sincerely,_

_Bluejay_

Hermione puts away the letters, rubbing her eyes. The ache behind them has disappeared to the back of her mind, only a dull throb lingering. Looking at the Skull Hookah, she decides to test it out on the weekends so that she doesn’t fall asleep while in Eto’s rigorous lessons.

* * *

Finally, the weekends arrive, and she tries to find more clues about the Skull’s powers. Hermione even attempts to breath in it again, but she only sees the Black Lake, calm and pristine. Along with the weekends, comes a message for Eto. The Veela Alfā had just sighed, hugged Hermione farewell, and was off to deal with matters of her job.

Leaving her alone in a house suddenly too big for her. So Hermione and Cobra pack a trunk to spend the week with the Greengrass’s. Sending Err’sh over to ask Daphne if she can spend some time at her Chateau, her Familiarbrings back a package containing a Portkey the next day.

Standing in the Look Out, trunk shrunken in her pocket, she morphs her wings out. After instructing Cobra to take care of the Delacour’s and make sure they stay out of trouble. He nods happily, and she takes off into the skies, Err’sh soaring next to her. Hermione flies away from the Colligation, the inactive Portkey in her hand.

When it starts to shudder, she dives, landing and morphing her wings away. Eros around her neck and torso clenches his coils around her, preparing himself, and Err’sh lands on her shoulders as the Portkey whisks them away to.

* * *

“MIO!” Astoria tackles her as soon as she appears just outside the Greengrass Chateau.Err’sh’s jostled off, glaring as he lands a meter away from them. Eros hisses disgruntled, glaring at Astoria who doesn’t pay him much mind. Chuckling, Hermione pats the young Alpha’s back, sitting up.

“You’re here just in time! We’re going to _Paris!_ Isn’t that great! It’s the city of—_EEP!_” Astoria is swung up into the air, Daphne marching towards them, her wand up. Her eyes flick once to Eros. Thrashing in the air, Astoria growls at Daphne, the Alpha not looking at her sister. Eros hisses, disgruntled, slithering off Hermione.

“Come now ma Tigresse [my Tigress], you can let your sister down,” Hermione says, gathering Err’sh in her arms, she stands, and Daphne sighs, setting down the annoyed young Alpha. Giving Hermione a quick smile, the Beta berates Astoria as the trio walk into the Manor. The young Alpha rolls her eyes at the lecture on proper greetings for guests.

“It’s unbefitting of a high class citizen such as ourselves,” Daphne continues, they rounding the corner into the parlor. Elainar and Edward are there, Yakyak standing with the luggage. Err’sh swoops in, landing on the luggage. Yakyak stares at him warily.

“Ah—Hermione welcome, are you ready to go?” Elainar asks, her voice catching when she sees Eros. His rises to press his head against her hand. Hermione nods.

“Yakyak,” Edward says, and all of them hold hands. Hermione leans to the side to allow Eros to coil his way up her torso and onto Astoria’s shoulders, making the young Alpha gasp. In the next instant they’re in a fancy hotel penthouse, overlooking the Eiffel Tower. Astoria squeals, startling Err’sh to flap onto the back of the couch.

She runs towards the floor to ceiling glass window-wall. Edward chuckles. Eros flicks his tongue in amusement.

“I shall inform the hotel of our arrival,” He says, Disapparating.

“Hermione, Daphne, you two can share this room, Astoria! Don’t smudge your hands over that glass—come here, you’re in here with us,” Elainar says, hurrying over to correct Astoria’s behavior. Their room provided has the same feel as their dorm, two twin beds and a small table with two chairs.

“Err’sh,” Hermione calls, the Lammergeier flapping into the room and settling on the bed closest to the door. Daphne smiles at Hermione.

“Just like Hogwarts, yeah?” She says, Yakyak putting her stuff on the other bed.

“Similar,” Hermione says, taking out her shrunken trunk. Yakyak snaps her fingers, the trunk popping back to normal size.

“Thank you Yakyak, that will be all,” Daphne says, and the House-Elf bows, popping away. Eros slithers through the door, making his way onto her bed. Daphne watches him carefully.

“Not a fan of snakes?” Herione grins wryly.

“Not if they’re Black Mamba’s,” Daphne retorts.

“Eros won’t harm you, as long as you respect his boundaries,” Hermione says gently, picking him up. Sitting on her bed, she watches as Daphne slowly walks forwards.

“May I touch him?” Brilliant grass-green eyes look to amber-brown for permission.

“Ask him.” Daphne looks down, and Eros nods. Stroking his head, he closes his eyes, flicking out his tongue. A small smile blooms on her face, and the Beta leans forwards. Their heads are almost touching. Hermione stares at Daphne, wondering what the odd heat in her chest is.

* * *

“OH LOOK! IT’S NAKED! MOTHER IT’S NAKED!” Astoria screams, many Muggles turning towards the sound. Astoria covers her eyes from the tall nude marble stature. Elainar sighs, speaking in soft tones about **Non-Magique** [No-Magic] French art history.

Edward is waiting in the Wizarding line to get into **Le Louvre**, and Hermione and Daphne sit on the marble edges of the triangle fountains.

“Sorry about Astoria, she literally has no filter from what appears in her mind to her mouth,” Daphne sighs. Hermione shrugs, watching the light shine off the pyramid glass skylight. They watch Astoria run around with Elainar hurrying gracefully after the energetic Alpha.

“I swear if it wasn’t for our blood, she’d be a Gryffindor,” The Beta mutters. Hermione slips on her sunglasses, and leans against Daphne. She keeps a close eye on Astoria running around in front of the pyramids. Elainar haven given up trying to catch her daughter and opts for waiting in the direction where Astoria will eventually run.

Daphne fiddles with the hem of her new dark green shirt, toying with a loose thread. The Greengrass’s transfigured and bought **Non-Magique** [No-Magic] clothes to fit in better, in Hermione’s case her clothes already looked somewhat normal.

“How are you coping with having so many Muggles around?” Daphne whispers, looking around. Hermione, feeling the wariness of being completely surrounded very acutely, shrugs.

“You’re here to suffer with me.” She drawls, snickering softly to herself when Daphne playfully pushes her away. Edward waves them over, and they descend into **Le Louvre**.

* * *

“That was incredible! I never knew Muggles could paint like that! I was waiting for the paintings to move they were so real!” Daphne gushes. They take a moment to stop on the **Pont des Arts** [Arts Bridge], looking down at the Seine river. Edward checks his watch.

“Alright girls, we still have time to see the **Arc de Triomphe** [Triumphal Arch] before our lunch reservation,” He says, all of them agreeing. They quickly walk to the end of the bridge, finding a secluded spot where the Greengrass’s and Hermione Apparate to the famous architecture.

“Woah, it’s pretty,” Astoria breathes, craning her neck to look up at the impressive structure. Hermione and Daphne walk after the young Alpha, she darting around the place.

“Astoria, don’t go past the stone barriers, understand?” Elainar calls.

“I know Mother!” She yells over her shoulder, and runs smack into a **Non-Magique** [No-Magic]. Hermione and Daphne hurry over to her, Elainar and Edward looking at the other side of the arch.

“**Oops! Sorry!**” Astoria babbles in French, offering her hand to the Epsilon.

“**Watch where you’re going!**” A young girl snaps, standing up and brushing her dress off. Astoria’s smile drops a bit, making both Hermione and Daphne frown at the rudeness.

“**I said I was sorry,**” Astoria mumbles. The girl crosses her arms, finally looking at Daphne, who pulls her sister close. Then Hermione and the girl lock eyes. Light-cerulean-blue, with silvery-blonde hair, willowy frame, and pale, delicate skin. A soft breeze blows the girl’s scent towards her, and Hermione’s nose twitches.

Nectar and honey. She’s a Veela Omega, baring a striking resemblance to the three Delacour sisters. Hermione tilts her head, looking down at the suddenly subdued Veela Omega, the latter instantly lowering her eyes in deference. Hermione takes Daphne’s hand, staring harshly at the Veela Omega. While they still may be the same species, she will never tolerate any disrespect to her packmates.

»Apologize.« She orders in Velian, the young Veela flinching.

“**I-I’m sorry for my rudeness, it was my fault—**”

“**Gabrielle?!**” They turn to see a Veela striding towards them, an older carbon copy of the younger one in front of them. Standing next to her sister, Hermione can see her eyes are dark-cerulean-blue. She’s tall, almost the same height as Hermione, her succulent scentof exotic citrus with nectar preceding her. Looking at the older Veela, Hermione feels a slight tug, and she starts to smile.

But the older Veela stiffens when she sees Hermione, narrowed eyes flicking between Hermione and the Greengrass sisters. Her smile drops.

»Don’t talk to my sister, _Mendonica,_« The proud Alpha doesn’t bow her head when she growls, and Hermione raises an eyebrow, a little hurt.

»Then teach her to be less rude in public.« Hermione retorts. Daphne looks back and forth between them, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

“**Come on Mio, they’re not worth it,**” Daphne whispers, tugging Hermione’s hand gently. The older Veela’s eyes flicker down to her, and Hermione steps in front of the Beta, blocking the Veela Alpha’s view.

»Keep you eyes up here, _Delacour,_« Hermione growls, the sound rumbling in her chest. The older Veela scowls, she pushing Gabrielle behind her.

»Likewise,« She sneers.

»Fleur, can we go?« Gabrielle whimpers. Fleur Delacour glares, baring her teeth a bit. Hermione snaps her teeth, not intimidated by the other Veela Alpha. Giving the bristling Veela a once over, Hermione doesn’t really understand Fleur’s aggression. France has equal laws concerning Omega’s and Alpha’s; even visitors had to adhere to them.

Fleur growls when her eyes land on Gabrielle again. Hermione sneers, pivoting on her heel, and guides the Greengrass sisters away. Perhaps her initial judgement of Fleur was wrong; she isn’t worth befriending.

* * *

The trio keep their encounter with the Veela from the parents, and at the end of the day, in the hotel, Eros and Err’sh launch themselves at her. Daphne looks half amused half wary at the display.

*We felt your distress! It was another Veela wasn’t it!*

‡_Sssueensss-Ssspeaker-King [Queen-Speaker-King], do you wisssh for me to hunt tonight?_‡ Smiling at their concern, she hisses softly as not to disturb Daphne. Getting ready for bed, as soon as she lies down Eros wraps himself around her, and Err’sh settles around her head.

Yawning, Hermione lets sleep calm her, her thoughts on their last day in Paris tomorrow. Come morning, they’re all packed, Astoria still sleepy. They visit the Eiffel Tower, Astoria waking up fully then. Looking out from the top view, Hermione feels a gaze on her. Shifting her view from looking through the window to the reflection behind her, Hermione scans the **Non-Magique** [No-Magic] crowds.

There.

When they lock eyes through the reflection, Hermione tenses. She’s old, but Hermione can feel the power coming off the Veela. It’s uncannily similar to Eto’s aura of power. The powerful Veela looks Hermione over, and she turns, looking the old Veela in her eyes. They’re sharp blue, piercing, but not like Eto’s. They survey each other, her image bringing up the memory of Fleur and Gabrielle.


	11. Summer In Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets a little chilly!

»Well met, daughter of Mendonica.« Hermione tilts her head.

“Mio! Astoria found out we can go out on the terrace,” Daphne walks over, an excited smile on her face. Hermione looks back to where the old Veela is, but she’s gone.

»Remember my name, Gaundiner Delacour,« She hears, then nothing.

* * *

Side-Apparating back to the Manor via Yakyak, the Greengrass sisters go upstairs to unpack, Hermione following. After the Greengrass’s are all settled, Edward takes them to Diagon Alley. Elainar takes Astoria to buy her Second year things while Daphne pulls Hermione around to buy their Third year supplies.

This includes _The Monster Book of Monsters Grade Three_ by Edwardus Lima. It’s pushed to her with a thick belt around it. With four eyes, a furry cover, it shudders, growling as it tries to bite. Along the edges are wriggling spikes, the front having four that are longer, interlocking like teeth. She pushes her Thrall at the living book, and it whimpers, settling.

The Flourish and Blotts storekeeper’s hand shakes and he ends up sliding it off the counter. Keeping her sigh in, Hermione picks it up, brushing off the cover and spine. The book, already subdued, releases a relaxed sigh. It stops shivering, closing it’s eyes. Patting the book, she leaves with Daphne, passing the Quidditch store.

“You think Draco or Harry will try and buy the Firebolt?” Daphne drawls, they are stopping to look at the sign.

≠ The Firebolt

This state of the art racing broom sports a stream-lined, superfine handle of ash, treated with a diamond-hard polish and is hand-numbered with its own registration number. Each individually selected birch twig in the broomtail has been honed to aerodynamic perfection, giving the Firebolt unsurpassable balance and pinpoint precision. The Firebolt has an acceleration of ≠ 241 kilometers per hour ≠ in ten seconds and incorporates an _Unbreakable Breaking Charm_. Price on Request. ≠

“I doubt they’d get past their parents on this.” Hermione smirks. Tugging Daphne towards the Leaky Cauldron, she flags down Tom the innkeeper and bartender. She’s glad her height makes her look older. He slides them two Butterbeers, and she downs it, grimacing at the sweet and sugary liquid.

“I knew the Nargles were gathering here, my Liege-Lady.” A dreamily voice says behind her, Hermione turning to see Luna. Grunting, she turns back. Daphne waves awkwardly at the Gamma. Luna sits on Daphne’s right, offering her hand to the Beta, Luna introduces herself.

“We’ve met before, although I couldn’t see you clearly, you were too shrouded in blood . . .” Luna trails off while Daphne blanches. Hermione looks up from her mug, licking the foam off her lips.

“Oh, right, I’m Gamma Luna Lovegood, my Liege-Lady’s Bounded-Vassal.” Daphne’s dazed eyes go wide at the title, and she shakes Luna’s hand.

“Lady Heiress Daphne Greengrass,” She says softly, her eyes flick to Hermione’s.

“Buying your school things?” Hermione asks, and Luna smiles.

“Oh no, I already lost my things. Daddy was out for a while and so I thought it would be best to stay here until term starts.” She says matter-of-factly. Both Hermione and Daphne frown at that.

“You shouldn’t be here alone, it’s not safe for a girl,” Daphne whispers, but Luna just shrugs her off.

“It’s ok, the Whackaspurts alert me if there’s danger.” Luna says airily.

“I’ll stay with you Luna,” Hermione says, concern for her fellow packmate rising in her.

“And I shall as well,” Daphne says. Luna smiles brightly at them. The Beta promptly orders Yakyak to take Hermione’s things and her Familiars to Luna’s room.

“What room are you in?” Daphne pauses to ask.

“Room Eleven.”

“Right,”

* * *

Staying with Luna in Room Eleven is never a dull moment. Both Err’sh and Eros already are attached to her, and likewise Luna is utterly content with snuggling with Eros or stroking Err’sh. Or both. Waking up from the first night, Hermione finds Eros coiling around her torso and leg, Err’sh fluffed up around her head, and Luna clinging to her waist like a sloth.

It had taken a bit of persuading on Daphne’s end to allow her to stay, and Astoria threw a little fit. In the end, the rest of the Greengrass family left. So she and Daphne accompany Luna around Diagon Alley, and when Luna gets distracted in Flourish and Blotts, they finds a nice corner to read. Then Luna usually joins them. Today, Hermione pauses, feeling her jacket pocket make whistling sounds.

Leaning her book against her knees, she takes out the twin’s Sneakofind. It’s glowing white. Hermione stiffens, eyes darting around. She watches the color go from white, to blue, then green, it staying green. Daphne looks at the Sneakofind, shutting her book. With Hermione’s back to the wall, she doesn’t _see_ anything, but she can _feel_ it.

A phantom breath on the back of her neck, magic tickling up against her skin. Hermione holds her breath when she feels a soft brush of slim fingertips glide along her jaw, leaving a trail of shivering cold. She keeps her eyes head still, eyes on the Sneakofind as the fingertips trace her lips, more stroking her throat.

“Mio?” Daphne’s heated hand is on hers, and the Beta hisses.

“You’re _freezing,_ here,” She pulls her Slytherin scarf and wraps them around Hermione’s hands. She glances at the Beta in the corner of her eye, trying to smile.

“My Liege-Lady?” Her eyes jerk up to see Luna standing at the end of the aisle, looking at her with a gentle smile. The touch turns hard, gripping her tightly.

“What do you have there?” Luna asks curiously, walking towards her. As she draws closer, the touch gets sharper, and Hermione’s sure that there are lines on her face. But when Luna steps in front of her, the force is suddenly gone, taking its magic with it. Luna tilts her head, smiling.

“You’re shivering,” Daphne says, pulling out her wand. Luna, however, drops herself into Hermione’s lap, and wraps her in a hug. Daphne gaps, and stows her wand hastily. Hermione shudders, and reaches out to hold Daphne’s hand as the Gamma warms her up.

* * *

On the last week before term starts, Diagon Alley is filled with wizards and witches. Taking their usual evening walk, Hermione, Daphne, and Luna people-watch; a little game that the Gamma came up with.

“Hey Hermione!” The crowds part a bit to let Harry come racing through. She smiles brightly, looking the Alpha over. He _looks_ alright, but she doesn’t know how he’s really faring. She knows that James is still in St. Mungos. Lily is not far behind her son.

“Hi Luna! Oh, Ron should be here any minute—” Hermione spots the bobbing red-heads.

“There you are! We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Ron cries, joining the trio on the bench. It turns out the Weasley’s, Harry, and Lily, are staying in the Leaky Cauldron as well until the first term starts. Ron and Harry instantly set their things in Room Twelve, Ginny joining the girls’ room. Upon waking up the next morning, Hermione sighs.

Once again she’s at the bottom of the sleeping pile with the other girls and her Familiars sleeping soundly around her. She must be emitting some Alpha pheromones because this time Ginny’s piled on too. The Gryffindor Alpha was mortified that Hermione saw her there. Fortunately, the week passes and the first day of term is upon them.

* * *

The Ministry provides cars for the Potter’s arrival to King’s Cross Station, for reasons Hermione deduces of the problem of one Sirius Black. Daphne and Ginny were picked up by their parents. Hermione merely mutters she’ll take the Knight Bus, leaving Diagon Alley. Saunters down the sidewalk with Luna at her side, she ignores the curious looks as she passes.

She’s carrying Err’sh’s cage with the cover on it with one hand—her trunk shrunken in her pocket with the Sneakofind—and Eros is hidden under her coat. Ducking into an empty alley, Eros prepares himself. Earlier that morning, he had declared _he_ was going to take them to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters by a curious magick called Slither-Syasasion.

Although Eros’s range is quite limited roughly the size of the United Kingdom.

‡_Ready?_‡ He hisses. Hermione takes Luna’s hand. Suddenly, she feels a sensation akin to Portkey travel, but instead of flying up and held onto an object by magic, she doesn’t move. The world spins around _them_, talons of black tearing through the blur, and she feels an immense cold.

The spinning slows, and the talons retreat, the blur settling into area of Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. Hermione blinks, as her natural body heat seeps back into her, leaving her gasping as if she’s swum from France to England. Eros flicks his tongue, licking her cheek, and the exhaustion melts away.

‡_Thanksss Erosss._‡ She hisses softly, and she straightens. He nods, then closes his eyes, going to sleep. She checks on Err’sh, who has all his feathers puffed out, and his neck scrunched tight against himself.

*Never. Again.* He whistles, and Hermione strokes his head through the bars. Luna is perfectly unbothered, swaying gently. Waiting for the scarlet train to arrive, Hermione spots two families of blonds. Astoria spots her first, her head whipping around in her direction.

“Mio!” Astoria’s cry alerts the others, and Daphne and Draco start badgering her about her summer. The train pulls up, and they board, looking for a compartment.

“Ugh, the Gryffindors always get the best compartments,” Daphne growls, as they go further to the back of the train.

“Stupid Lions,” Astoria scowls.

“There are Lions in our pack,” Hermione drawls, fixing her green tie that Eros had wrinkled. Astoria pouts, and Hermione ruffles her hair. They finally find a compartment, a sleeping Remus already on it, his coat covering him. They put their trunks above on the racks, and settle in. Err’sh quickly informs Hermione that he’s going to fly on ahead, she opening the window for him.

‡_Birdsss are ssso flighty,_‡ Eros hisses with disdain in her ear. She taps his nose and he turns away.

‡_He’sss gone to sssee Mrsss. Norrisss._‡ She hisses.

“Who’d you reckon he iss?” Draco asks.

“Alpha Remus Lupin.” She says.

“The one that saved Potter?” Daphne exclaims. Astoria, just narrows her eyes at him, sniffing. Draco’s face contorts with indecision. Hermione takes off her cloak coat, Eros unwrapping himself. Draco stiffens a bit, his eyes on the snake. Daphne and Astoria however are used to him, and Daphne even lets him lie on her lap.

Eventually, Beta Tracey, and Harold enter, the latter looking a little uncomfortable in the other Beta’s presence. Harry, Ron, Neville, and Ginny find them a little later. Once they’re all sitting and chatting, a swelling warmth in Hermione’s chest blooms, as her pack interact with each other.

The Trolly Witch comes along, Draco buying everyone Chocolate Frogs. The pack start discussing animatedly whether or not if a Chocolate frog could swim, Hermione watching amused. Then the feeling of the train slowing cuts the conversation off.

“We can’t be there, we’re still on the bridge,” Harold frowns, getting up to look out the window. Hermione frowns, hissing when the train finally slows, jerking to a halt. The sounds of distant thuds and pained cries tell of luggage falling. Fortunately not for them. Eros rises up high from his coils, his face turned to the window. Then the lights go out.

The pack are worried, speaking in hushed tones. Hermione presses her hand against the glass, seeing the fog concealing the deep gorge below. Frost starts to crystalize, and a black shape flits just under the window’s view. She growls sharply, silence descending. Pressing a finger to her lips, she tilts her head against the glass, listening. There’s an eerie howling.

“Something’s out there,” She mutters, and Neville whimpers. Suddenly the compartment door slams open, screams erupting from the pack. Hermione whirls around, her hand up, but in stumbles Blaise and Theodore.

“What in Merlin’s name was that for?!” Daphne screams, leaping to her feet, her finger shaking as she points to the boys. Ginny sighs.

“What’ss happening?” Draco orders, but the two boys shake their heads. Beta Tracey sighs loudly. Only Eros, Luna, and Harold have eyes for Hermione. A cold starts to descend upon the train, shutting everyone up. Ron shuts the compartment door, snapping down the blinds.

Black ghosty shapes blur in and out behind the fogged window. Hermione’s breath picks up, leaning away from the window.

“Wands out, now.” She orders, everyone obeying. That’s when Remus wakes, his face serious. Taking out his wand, he stands.

“Stay where you are, I’m going to speak with the conductor,” He orders, his gaze flicking to Harry. They all look to her, and she nods, Remus rising an eyebrow at their deference. He leaves, and there’s a tense, uncomfortable silence. Neville’s shivers start to escalate, and Harry squeezes in next to him. Hermione looks to Eros.

‡_Keep them here,_‡ She hisses, Harry’s head snapping up.

“I’m going with Mr. Lupin, you lot, stay here,” She orders, leaving the compartment before they can try and stop her. Waving her fingers in a tight circle, the door’s sealed shut. Slowly turning, she stalks through the corridors cautiously, mist pooling around her ankles.

Hermione follows the coldest trail, her hands at the ready. She walks along the bend of the car, seeing the creature in the doorway of a compartment. Wreathed in a threadbare black cloak, as tall as the ceiling, and it turn to her as if sensing her eyes, its face hidden beneath the cowl of its hood. A heavy mist starts to form from behind it as it makes an rattling inhaling sound.

The cold drops fast, frost crystals forming around her, as the cold pierces her body, in her chest. A skeletal hand protrudes from the cloak, and Hermione can’t see, can’t breath, as she hears a blood curling scream, flashes of red, and an insane male laughter growing louder and louder.

Her body is cold and numb, shutting down, but at the same time smoldering heat is building in her core. Her legs give out, the cold leeching every drop of warmth from her. Opening her mouth to scream, black clouds her vision and magic explodes out of her.

— . —

_Indissolubili Sociavit Confractus_ = Unbreakable Breaking Charm (Latin: Unbreakable Break)


End file.
